


Mors Tua, Vita Mea

by courgette96



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Death, Character Death is neither Ben nor Hux, Dark, Friends and Enemies and Lovers, Hostage Ben, Hux is Not Nice, Hux is a masochist who tops from the bottom, I can't believe I forgot to tag that, M/M, Non-Chronological, Non-Linear Narrative, Unhealthy Relationships, Verbal Abuse, Violent Sex, so it's not MCD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 08:44:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 35,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7041292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courgette96/pseuds/courgette96
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it begins, Ben is the First Order's valuable hostage, and Hux is the smug son of the Commandant who captured him.<br/>They should hate each other. They do.</p><p>When it ends, twenty years have passed, filled with torment and crimes and late night conversations. Spiced brandy and rough sex.<br/>They should have kept on hating each other. Everything would have been much simpler then.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The art in this fic was done by the amazing Marin! I can't believe how lucky I am that they picked me! You can find their work [here](http://maaaaaarin.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> This was my first bang, and it was the greatest introduction to this sort of event that I can imagine. Special thanks to the Mods, who organized this bang and were flawless while doing so.

**(End)**

 

Ben’s very first exercise of freedom after over two decades of captivity was to flee the party thrown in his honor.

He wanted to be grateful, truly he did. But it was hard, pretending to be happy to be back when he had never felt so lost in his life. It was hard, bearing the smiles and the hugs when his first instinct was to flinch at their touch.

It was hard, being surrounded by so many, when the only person he truly wanted to be with was out of his reach.

Alone on the roof, under the night sky, Ben closed his eyes and imagined there was a redhead sitting by his side.

 

 

**(33)**

 

His cloak felt heavy on his shoulders, more so than usual. Perhaps it was the heat, which was already strong on its own but became suffocating with the fireplace so nearby.

Thank the Force it wasn’t daytime. Jakku would have been unbearable then.

That, of all things, was what was going through Ben’s mind. To be fair, he had been doing this for a while now. And it always ended the same.

“The map to Skywalker, we know you have it. And you will give it to the First Order.”

“The First Order hunts for Skywalker,” the old man replied, voice calm and deliberate. “You do not.”

Ben clenched his teeth, narrowed his eyes. San Tekka was not intimidated; nothing seemed to faze him.

Not even death.

“Some would say we are the same.”

“They may, but the First Order cannot take away the truth of your family.”

Oh, but it could.

The First Order could take whatever it wanted, make it whatever it wished it to be. Ben learned that when he was so very young. Learned, and adapted. Bent as much as he could, and probably broke in some places.

And he refused to let an old man judge him.

(The whole Galaxy was judging him, he knew. He had heard the condemning tales, the fearful whispers. But they didn’t understand, didn’t _know_ , and he had to do it. All of it. He had to.)

(It will all be worth it.)

“Where. Is. The. Map?”

“It is never too late,” the man said in lieu of an answer. His eyes were sad, pitying. “You can still go home.”

San Tekka had been fated to die the moment the First Order landed on Jakku.

After he heard those words, Ben was no longer sorry for that fact.

“You sound so certain.”

The lightsaber in his hand flared to life.

He barely felt it as the lightsaber cut through old flesh, barely heard the horrified scream coming from behind him.

He froze the blaster bolt coming for him, and in the same breath paralyzed the shooter. Poe Dameron’s eyes were blazing with fury and horror as he looked upon him. That glare proved Tekka wrong with cruel elegance.

Ben Solo was on a mission to kill his uncle. Of course he couldn’t _go home_.

That dream had died long ago.

 

 

**(4)**

 

_First Order Archives: Official Statement n° 137._

_Speech Delivered by Commandant Brendol Hux, in the year 15 ABY:_

 

_Though the Galaxy ever strives for peace, dark times are still upon us. Turmoil still plagues all at every turn, instability bringing down all systems under the hold of the New Republic!_

_During these dark times tragedy strikes, this time in the form of an orphaned child!_

_Ben Solo, son of the illustrious Leia Organa, nephew of Luke Skywalker, last known Jedi, has been found abandoned on a desolate planet in an otherwise deserted system! This is the kind of misery the New Republic allows to continue!_

_We have been unable to contact any family this poor child might have. But the First Order looks after its own, and we will not abandon him! Leia Organa and Luke Skywalker may be missing, but Ben Solo will not be alone._

_On this day, 15 years after the Battle of Yavin, The First Order officially declares Ben Solo its ward! This child of legacy, the blood of the Empire’s greatest warrior, will be protected by the First Order. He will be raised with all the care and devotion he deserves, and with companionship of my own son, my young Brendol, he will be able to get through the sad fate that has befallen him._

_Let it be known that this child is under our protection! Let it be known that we will not allow him to be abandoned!_

_All hail the First Order!_

 

 

**(22)**

 

Hux had read his father’s speech countless of times, but he had yet to grow tired of it. There was no valid justification as to why he would go through a twenty-year old speech so often, but fortunately no one on the ship needed to know. As he was right now, sitting on a bench looking over his holopad, he could have been doing any sort of important task for the sake of the First Order.

And, in some regards, keeping an eye on Ben Solo as he went through his daily regimen was very important business. Making sure the hostage-turned-ward was not attempting anything reckless. Evaluating the prowess of the Leader of the Knights of Ren. All perfectly valid reasons.

Of course, the most valid reason of them all would be that Ben Solo was currently going through his stances in nothing more than loose pants and a black tank top. Hux had a particular affection for that outfit, since the sight of those bare arms and flexing muscles brought to mind all sorts of pleasant memories that he sadly couldn’t indulge in right now.

With a sigh, he reined himself in, pulling up on his holopad the monthly budget report. He resolutely focused his attention on the numbers, although he still occasionally stole a glance towards Ben’s sweaty figure from time to time.

Brendol Hux would never let pleasure get in the way of work, but he did not mind mingling the two.

“With the way you bring that kriffing pad to your bed,” Solo called out as he thrusted forward his lightsaber, “I would have thought work was your only pleasure.” He glanced at him. “Of course, that would be if I didn’t hear you fantasizing all day. Just how do you get work done?”

There was something almost comical about someone sounding so flippant while wielding such a dangerous weapon. Especially this one, which crackled with dangerous energy, red sparks flying from the blade and somehow not burning Solo’s exposed skin.

Hux had a few theories as to why the Force user never sought a more stable weapon. None of them spoke of a well-adjusted mind.

“Such slandering is unbecoming,” he chided, pressing on the edge of his holopad to turn it off. “As is intruding in another’s mind.” He stood up, tucking the pad inside his jacket, before looking up with a disappointed sigh. “Twenty years here and we still haven’t managed to cure you of that Republic barbarity.”

Ben took the bait. He didn’t always, but often enough. After every break in routine, every mission he was sent on that forcefully pulled him out of the apathy that had installed itself over the years.

Hux didn’t necessarily mind an apathetic Ben. It meant less trouble.

An angry Ben though. That meant more _fun._

“There is nothing to cure,” Ben said through gritted teeth.

“Indeed not, I suppose,” he agreed pleasantly. “Scum will always be scum, no matter how much effort one might put into it.”

Instead of answering, Solo went back to his stances. His hits were harsher now, his swings faster and less controlled, and in between each stance black eyes would glance towards him, full of murderous intent and hurt pride.

It was almost impressive how quickly his anger built up.

Then again, from what Hux gathered, Ben hadn’t been encouraged towards any sort of emotional restraint.

“You didn’t mind the scum so much before.”

Solo’s voice drew him out of his musing. The Force user wasn’t looking at him, too busy pretending to be focused on his stances. Absolutely ridiculous.

“Did it take you that long to come up with a retort?” Hux asked, raising an eyebrow. “Besides, you did not seem to mind either.”

“You flatter yourself, General. I was merely bored.”

The smile Hux gave him is sharp and dangerous, and full of wicked glee when he saw Solo stiffen at the sight. “Well, it is a good thing the Supreme Leader saw fit to send you to Brogel. I’ve heard you had quite a bit of fun there.”

Solo didn’t look back, didn’t interrupt his movements, but his pace grew faster, his breath more ragged.

“Recently acquired systems are always unstable at first, but you handled the situation admirably,” Hux continued, delighting in how those large fingers turned white from a tightened grip, at how dark those eyes got. “The insurrection was subdued much faster than usual. Phasma told me you were of invaluable help.”

Ben pointedly didn’t answer.

“You could have stayed to clean up the bodies, but I do suppose that’s what Stormtroopers are for.”

Ben’s entire frame was trembling now, his blade crackled more furiously, as if in tune with the storm brewing within.

Hux licked his lips.

“Your loyalty is most appreciated.”

And then it happened.

The red lightsaber flashed, swung, cut through everything in its path and even some that was not, the Force dragging whatever was out of reach straight into its path. Petty acts, a petty display, but for most on the base terrifying in its destructiveness.

The uncontrolled violence that would make a young Ben Solo protest that Hux had made him do it, and made a young Hux quietly revel in the fact it was true.

When Ben was finished, there were sparks flying from broken equipment and a pile of broken parts at his feet. Hux sighed. “I truly ought to make you pay for all this.”

It was the game they played - or that Hux did, at least. He would push, and prod, until Ben inevitably lost by snapping. And then Hux would berate the Force user for giving him exactly what he wanted.

Ever since he became General, his new concerns for budget and maintenance had made him indulge less and less. Still, childhood habits were hard to break.

“I suggest you clean up,” Hux said, jerking his head towards the wreckage that is left of the training droids. “The Supreme Leader has summoned us.”

Ben’s lips curled into a sneer. “And we cannot keep him waiting, can we?” he drawled, kicking a robot head with his heavy boot.

“No, we cannot,” the redhead answered sharply. “Don’t be late.”

With that, he turned, not bothering looking back. He knew Ben would follow.

Twenty years have long taught him not to fight pointless battles.

 

 

**(1)**

 

He had been ten when they took everything away.

He had been with his parents in a small space shuttle. Not the Falcon, because it had been too damaged by his father latest run, and it had felt like the greatest of insults to him. His parents were sending him away, and they were doing it in a small, old, stupid ship. His father had been at the controls, his mother had been sitting next to him, and he had been glaring at the floor, determined to ignore her and hoping she would take him in her arms anyway.

Some days he wonders if she would have, eventually, had she had the chance.

However, during the time they had together, she had only looked at him with a sadness-tinged resolve, and he had hated her for it. He wishes there were a kinder word for it, but if there is he doesn’t know it. All he knows is that he had felt something ugly, something pure and despairing and all encompassing.

Towards his mother for sending him away.

Towards his uncle for giving her the idea to do so.

Towards his father for agreeing to pilot the shuttle.

And that is the last true memory he has.

The rest had been a blur of crashes, trembling walls, his parents shouting at each other. Hands grabbing him, familiar and comforting at first, then harsh and unknown. A swarm of white and black, and all the power and potential that had put him on that ship in the first place rendered absolutely useless by his own fear.

In a matter of minutes, he had been in a different shuttle entirely.

The ship they brought him to had been so strange to him, because it was all so _big_. Everything that he could catch a glimpse of towered over him. Ships within ships, high ceilings, and hundreds of Stormtroopers all in one room. Two of them had dragged him down a series of corridors, all identically grey and austere. The white of their armor had been the closest thing to color there.

The thought had terrified him, for some reason.

When they finally stopped, he had found himself in a small room. It was bare, with only a simple desk, a chair, and a large window through which he could see a few distant, dull stars.

There had also been a man. Tall and lean, sharp features accentuated by sunken cheeks. He had been dressed in a dark grey uniform, like everything there, but a flash of red hair peaked from underneath his officer’s hat.

He had green eyes as well, but Ben could find no comfort in that little burst of color when the man’s gaze made him feel so very small.

“That is him, I assume?” the man had asked, his eyes never leaving Ben. Though Ben tried so very hard to be brave, he knew he was shaking.

“Yes sir,” the Stormtrooper replied, and Ben couldn’t help but flinch at the mechanical tone the helmet granted to his voice. “Organa and her companions managed to escape, but the main target has been secured.”

“Will there be a pursuit?”

“Likely not. They do not have the means to track our location.”

“And will this be enough to stop all assault from the Resistance?”

The Stormtrooper hesitated. “It is unlikely that they will stop fighting completely. Though the presence of the child here will force them to be more cautious. Moreover, there will be systems who will believe that Organa abandoned her son. It will damage their support.”

The man hummed. “Not the most ideal outcome, but one we have prepared for. The Supreme Leader will be pleased, as I am. I commend you, Captain.”

“Sir, I am not…”

“Yes, you are.”

Shock and joy radiated off the Stormtrooper. Ben felt it, as strongly as he felt his own terror and despair, and the combination nearly made him sick.

They had talked some more afterwards, said things Ben couldn’t understand over the roar of blood in his ears and the sound of his beating heart. The more they talked, the more it became real.

He was here - wherever “here” was - and he was alone.

The man with red hair and green eyes kept looking at him, cold and disdainful. “The First Order welcomes you to the _Divider,_ Ben Solo. Do make yourself comfortable, you will be here for a long time.”

Ben swallowed. “My parents will come,” he said, using every ounce of courage inside him. “They have the Force. They’ll find me.”

The man didn’t even answer, didn’t even acknowledge what Ben had said. He merely turned to the Stormtrooper once more. “Bring the boy to his room. I will inform the Supreme Leader that his apprentice has been acquired.”

Ben ignored those words - such a mistake, in hindsight, but he hadn’t known it at the time - and instead told himself his parents would come, his uncle, Chewie. They would all come for him, and take him away. Even as the Stormtrooper dragged him away, he kept on trying to convince himself of it.

It had been a waste of energy, but again, he hadn’t known it at the time.

 

 

**(23)**

 

No matter how long it has been since he has only spoken to Snoke through a hologram, Ben could never truly see the gigantic projection towering over him. Instead, he always saw the short, frail man, with hands so thin and a face so gaunt Ben could probably break them with his bare hand.

It was a relief. It was awful.

Because Ben never did break those bones, no matter how much he wanted to. He never even tried.  

And kneeling before a hologram was just another reminder at how useless he was, and how futile any action would be besides. There was no point in attacking a projection, there was no point in fighting here when there was an entire ship to fight through.

Those were the reasons he gave himself.

They were convincing half the time.

“The weapon is ready, Supreme Leader,” Hux said as he stood at his left. Pride seeps into his every word. “The final tests have all wielded stellar results. We can proceed as soon as you give the order.”

Snoke nodded once, less in approval and more in simple acknowledgment of the words. He turned his head in the same slow, deliberate way he did everything, his eyes landing on Ben.

Suddenly, Ben was ten again, alone in a dark room with a man who proved to him that there could always be something more frightening.

“What do you think of this, Lord Ren?”

And not for the first time, Ben cursed himself for not wearing his mask.

He hated it. Hated it, because it had been given to him when he became a Knight of Ren, when he… did what he had to do, to live. Even though he could have chosen to die, and maybe should have. Because Master of the Knights of Ren is not just an honorary title. It is won with sweat and blood and the smell of burning flesh and the dull sound of a body hitting the ground.

Ben had been filthy when he won the title. The previous Master had fought with all that he had, knowing that he was going to die anyway. That kind of desperation fed the Dark Side almost as well as anger; it allowed him to drag on the battle, and perhaps die with dignity.

Though there hadn’t been any dignity in his death when Ben’s light saber tore through his intestines, denying him the quick death a stab to the heart could have given him. There hadn’t been any dignity to his corpse when Snoke carelessly shoved it to the side to step forward towards his still panting apprentice. There hadn’t been any dignity to his memory when the Knights of Ren, who had watched him fight and watch him die, didn’t even spare a glance towards the still warm body.

Snoke had presented Ben with the mask in the moments following his victory. He had offered it with a benevolent expression on his face, and had praised Ben for his prowess. In front of all the Knights, he had proclaimed Ben the strongest. He had said he was proud.

And Ben, still covered in dust and blood and sweat, still flushed from exertion and adrenaline, high on the thrill of survival, of _winning_ , of wielding the Force as he never had before - Ben had smiled back.

He hated the mask.

But at the same time, to have that mask would mean to hide his face, hide his too wide eyes, his skin that still paled whenever Snoke looked upon him for too long. To hide away when memories and guilt could no longer be kept at bay. Hide away from all this, until everyone forgot that it was _Ben Solo_ who walked in black robes with a red lightsaber. Until Ben himself forgot.

But that was what Snoke wanted. And so “Ben Solo” survived out of sheer spite.

“Well, my apprentice?”

Ben snapped back to attention. “There is no use for something so drastic, Supreme Leader.”

“No?” Snoke said thoughtfully, and Ben hated it. Hated how he pretended that Ben’s opinion had any true relevance. Hated how he kept implicating him in his decisions. “Do you believe the Republic will be subdued through other means?”

Ben swallowed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hux looking at him in mild amusement, the same way he watched the few shows that were broadcasted on the Finalizer’s holovision channels. All ended with the ultimate victory of the First Order; the entertainment came from watching the struggle.

“The Republic’s military is not up to par,” Ben answered carefully. He has learned long ago not to lie - the only way to truly lose this game Snoke made him play. “They will be easily crushed, without calling upon the Ultimate Weapon.”

Snoke hummed thoughtfully. “There is some truth to that,” he said, “but what of their spirit? The Empire was brought down by a group with much less military prowess, simply because that group won the trial of commitment.” He leaned forward, his wrinkled mouth pulling into a smile. “Do you know of any other way to crush them?”

When Snoke had first begun involving him in such conversations – making Ben an accomplice instead of a mere hostage – Ben’s heart would stop each time his opinion was solicited. He’d feel as if every word that left his mouth beard the weight of a thousand lives, and that every choice then made would be crucial.

He had been young then, barely over eighteen. A child still in some ways, most notably in his lingering belief that someone would come for him any day now. He had believed that when the time came, he would have to be as heroic as possible, as _Light_ as possible. And so, when Snoke asked for his input, he would behave as the son of Organa should: composed and defiant, saving as many lives as he could.

But defiance turned to weariness, which then turned to bitter apathy. It seemed foolish to pretend that he could make a difference: the First Order would act as it desired, and Ben could do nothing to stop it.

More importantly, it seemed foolish to pretend that he could still be anything close to heroic: too many years had passed, too many blood spilled by his hands because he dared not defy Snoke. And throughout it all, no one had come for him. Not to save him. Not even to stop him

Nowadays, he usually answered what he knew Snoke expected him to, burying what guilt he felt under righteous indignation. For what had the Republic ever done for him? What did he owe them, after all these years of abandonment?

To participate enthusiastically would be to give in to Snoke. To carry on fighting was to set himself up for heartbreak.

It was better not to care.

But every now and then, that protective indifference would shatter under a more gruesome horror, a cruelty to great to turn a blind eye.

And Starkiller…

Ben thought of his mother, of the haunted expression that marred her face every anniversary of Alderaan’s destruction. She had never told him the full story, wanting to protect him as much as possible from her own trauma, but people talked, and remembered. He knew she had been made to watch.

He knew she wouldn’t forgive him if he just stood by and watched too.

And Ben, who was still a child in many ways, couldn’t bear the thought of it.

Starkiller couldn’t be fired. He couldn’t let it happen.

No matter what.

Snoke was still looking at him, and Ben knew he expected an answer.

So he gave him one, the only answer his Master would be interested in hearing.

“I have come one step closer to uncovering Skywalker’s location.”

His father had once told him that in order to bargain with someone, you had to first offer what they wanted.

 “If we find the last Jedi, if we….” He swallowed. “If we kill him, then we destroy whatever hope they have.”

It was a simplistic view, and so very wrong besides. Ben knew there was nothing to keep them from doing both, killing Luke and firing the weapon. But he also knew that Snoke didn’t care about Starkiller that much, didn’t care about anything outside of the Force and the power he could get from it.

And that’s why Ben’s bargain might work.

 _I’ll kill him,_ he thought desperately. _I’ll kill my uncle for you, do what Darth Vader never could. Don’t fire that weapon, and I’ll take down your greatest threat for you!_

It was a poor bargain.

It was all he had left.

He didn’t say the words out loud, but he knew that Snoke heard him. Knew that Snoke could always hear him if he wished.

When the projection nodded again, Ben’s could have cried out in relief.

“As you wish, my apprentice,” he said magnanimously. “We will try following your plan.”

Ben felt his throat tighten.

It was a victory. And yet it wasn’t at all. He’d gotten what he wanted, or had he? He didn’t know. He hasn’t had any sort of certitude for a very long time.

The hologram flickered out of existence, and the room was dark.

The two of them looked a moment longer at the place where Snoke’s hologram used to be, before Hux huffed in irritation. “You know, I do hate how he obviously favors you.”

Ben said nothing. His hands clenched into tight fists.

“Then again,” Hux continued. “I do suppose you Force Users are your own special club.”

“You can’t fire that weapon.”

Ben turned sharply towards Hux, trying so hard to appear calm and assertive. He only managed half the time with the redhead, and never on something this important.

In all their years together, he has learned that Hux cannot be reasoned with. He has too much certitude for that.

“Can’t I?” Hux asked clearly humoring him.

Ben swallowed.

“I will do whatever I need to see the First Order to victory,” the redhead continued. “Which is all a moot point, seeing as I won’t apparently be _doing_ anything at all for the next -”

“This isn’t a joke, Hux.”

“Indeed it isn’t. I take my duties most seriously.”

They stared at each other. Ben was glaring intently. Hux gauging him, daring him to comment any further.

“You don’t have to do it.”

“Don’t I?”

“I won’t let you.”

“Of course you will, if the Supreme Leader commands it.”

“I don’t want you to,” Ben whispered.

“Evidently,” Hux drawled, before rolling his eyes. “And if you have it your way, it won’t be a problem.”

Ben grit his teeth. Around them, a few metal plates started cracking.

Hux rolled his eyes. “Kriff, you are dramatic,” he mumbled, stepping closer. “I won’t fire the weapon until I have express orders to do so. And I won’t even push for it to be used at all.” He sniffed. “There, I promise that at least. It’s much more than others get. Be happy about it.”

He leaned forward then, and pressed a kiss to Ben’s lips then. A small peck really, one where he completely ignored how stony Ben remained.  It wasn’t meant to be reciprocated: Ben has known Hux long enough to recognize when tenderness was used for mockery.

Hux pulled back with a self-satisfied expression.

“Now go kill your uncle,” he said condescendingly, before turning around and heading towards the door.

Ben watched him go with bile in his throat.

 

 

**(5)**

 

He couldn’t see, couldn’t move, could barely breathe at all. His body twitched every so often, as if the electric shock was still coursing through it. Tears fell out the corner of his eyes, and his head was still ringing.

He didn’t know if it was from the discharge or the impact of his head on the ground as he fell.

The tall man with green eyes and sunken cheeks loomed over him, and Ben whimpered.

“Six months until your first escape attempt,” the man sneered as Ben’s vision faded to black. “I trust that it will be your last.”

 

 

**(6)**

 

Ben learned about one year into his stay with the First Order that all Cadets at the Academy were granted some time with their families, to help them cope with the demands of their training as well as to reward them for their service.

He doubted Hux had any need for such a coping mechanism, but that didn’t stop him from returning to his father during that time off. Though how much of a reward that was was up for debate: Commandant Hux worked aboard the First Order’s main warship. As such, any time Hux spent there must have been barely different that at the Academy.

For Ben, being there was a respite. Being there meant being away from Snoke.

At that thought he heard a chuckle in his mind again. He winced.

“Do you plan on being in the way all day, Solo?”

Ben looked up to glare at the familiar sneering face. “Don’t you have other places to be, Hux?”

“There are many things I would rather do, believe me.” Hux looked at him in contempt. “I do not relish watching you levitate small objects like a bored toddler.”

Ben felt his face flush; the accusation was a little too true for comfort.

Ben was bored, and that is why he came down to the main hangar. Watching Stormtroopers come and go, toying around with the Force.

Thinking of sabotaging a ship, knowing he would never get away with it.

“What does it matter why I’m here?” he asked defensively. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Undisciplined. Unsurprising,” Hux sneered. “I would have thought the Supreme Leader would have cured you of that.”

Ben only glared harder.

Hux huffed. “Come into my quarters. There is a holoboard we can use for Dejarik.”

Ben recoiled slightly from shock. “Why?”

“I haven’t had an opponent in a while; I will take what I can get, even a mediocre player.”

Ben ignored the barb. “Why should I go anywhere with you?”

Hux raised an eyebrow. “I can alert higher command about suspicious behavior in Hangar 2, if you prefer?”

Ben narrowed his eyes and grit his teeth.

The offer held more appeal than he ever wanted to admit. No matter how much he hated Hux, he was still the only person Ben talked to semi-regularly, and even then, that wasn’t enough.

He was lonely.

And after months spent solely in Snoke’s company, he would take whatever he could get.

“Fine,” he bit out, stomping his way towards the Hux’s shared room.

He made sure to bump him in the shoulder as he passed.

 

 

**(7)**

 

Hux’s eyebrows raised in surprise.

“You are unexpectedly skilled at this,” he said as he watched Ben make his final move. Hux’s houjix was promptly defeated, and thus he lost the game.

Ben didn’t bother hiding his smugness. “You are expectedly horrible.”

Hux glared at him, resetting the board. “How did you ever become so good at this?”

“I learned, the same as anyone else.”

“Is that what the Supreme Leader teaches you?”

“Funny,” Ben deadpanned. “We used to go long ways in the Falcon, when I was younger. My uncle Chewie would take me aside and…”

He trailed off when he realized what he was speaking about. His throat felt tight.

Hux looked at him as he moved his first piece. “The Wookie, is that right?”

Ben nodded minutely as he moved his Monnok two spaces to the left.

“How strange,” Hux murmured, “that a sub-human could be so skilled…”

Ben kicked him. Hard.

The boy cursed loudly, looking up to glare at Ben, who was glaring right back. There were tears stinging the corner of Ben’s eyes, and it was a relief to be able to blame it on anger rather than something else.

“Your move,” he spat out, infusing all the bile inside him in those words.

Hux glared at him some more, then went back to the board.

 

 

 

**(10)**

 

“You are getting better,” Ben admitted grudgingly as Hux took out his Strider.

“We do learn strategy at the Academy,” Hux answered. “Though seeing as Tarkin is the one in charge of the program, I do sometimes doubt its merits.”

“Tarkin…” Ben searched his memory. “Is he the one with the sunken in cheeks?”

“Yes, that would be him,” Hux sighed. “Mediocre man.”

“He doesn’t like you much either. I can tell by the way he looks at you.”

“I honestly have no idea how he regards me; it is beneath my notice.”

“Last time he was aboard, he looked at you like someone peed in his boots and he suspected it was you.”

“Is that honestly what you think happens at the Academy?” Hux asked incredulously. “Petty pranks?”

Ben shrugged. “I honestly don’t care. Though I shouldn’t be surprised you would reject any sort of fun, even the meanest of kind.”

“Oh, Ben, you wound me,” Hux mocked. “And here I thought we were having such a good time.”

“I certainly am,” Ben replied pleasantly as he made his next move. “There goes your Savrip.”

Hux blinked. “Damn.”

 

 

**(15)**

 

“You only have two pieces left,” Hux commented. His voice sounded so very distant to Ben’s ears.

Ben stared blankly at the board. He could barely wrap his head around the game, could barely even remember the rules.

All he could think of was brown eyes turning wide, then closing forever.

He felt Hux’s gaze on him. The redhead stared a long time before groaning in irritation. “Are you still upset over all that?” he asked, scorn dripping from his every word. “How can you still be so soft hearted after all these years?”

Ben looked up. Angry incredulity somehow managed to push through the fog of numbness he was surrounded by, enough to make him speak for the first time in hours. “Are you really asking me that?”

Though really, Ben shouldn’t be so surprised. He knew Hux, knew his father, knew what kind of people the First Order bred.

But after five years living here, Ben had grown accustomed to Hux. Hux was soothingly familiar, a regular presence that did not carry the threat the officers did. The only person here Ben ever wanted to talk to.

And so after five years, Ben had forgotten who Hux truly was. He had been brutally reminded by the sound of a blaster and the redhead’s cold calm as he took in his kill.

Hux was unmoved. Hux was never moved. “It is a little too late for moralizing. You should have spoken up when sanitation came to dispose of the body.”

Ben recoiled at that. “You know I couldn’t have,” he said defensively.

Hux smiled nastily. “There are many things you could have done, Ben, but didn’t. Perhaps it is time you start taking responsibility for that.”

Ben felt the blood leave his face even more. Maybe that’s why he felt like he was going to pass out any moment now.

Or throw up.

Hux looked at him with cold eyes. “You’ll get over it,” he stated, turning off the holoboard. “You have proven to be remarkably adaptable.”

With that, he left the room. His footsteps were slow and steady, a regular beat that somehow seemed to match Ben’s pounding heart.

He drowned it all out with his screams and sound of a Dejarik board smashing against the wall.

 

 

**(19)**

 

It wasn’t often that Hux left the Finalizer, especially given his recent promotion as General. Still, speeches needed to be said, Hux was remarkably good at them, and there were enough competent officers within the First Order that he could be spared for a day or two.

So, there they were, on their way towards B’ris, in a ship just large enough to carry the two of them plus ten officers, who were mostly there for logistic reasons. Even Ben was only there to be seen, to show how strong the son of Organa has grown under the tutelage of the First Order.

Hux was the only one who was actually going to do anything of import, and Force, did he relish it.

“I will do all the talking, of course,” he said smugly. “All you need to do is stand there and look pretty.” He smirked. “Hard work, I know, but still.”

Ben wasn’t paying any attention.

The windows here weren’t nearly as large as the Finalizer’s, but they still gave a big enough view of the Galaxy.

B’ris wasn’t _that_ far away from the Hosnian system. A two-day trip at most. Easily done, and possible to evade detection for that amount of time, if-

“Are you thinking of escaping again?” Hux rolled his eyes. “You won’t do it.”

Ben tensed. Hux was right, of course. There have been many escape opportunities, some better than the one he had now, and he didn’t take them.

That didn’t mean he liked to be reminded of the fact.

“Maybe I was thinking of murdering you,” he lied, his right hand toying with the shackles on the left. “Taking out the First Order’s new general. What a feat.”

“I’m terrified,” Hux deadpanned.

Ben’s felt his frustration growing. Hux _should_ fear him, fear what he is able to do. Snoke taught him well, if nothing else, and yet Hux never seemed to care about that. Never seemed to care that Ben could rip him apart of he wanted to.

It was humiliating. Hux always managed to make him feel that way.

Fortunately, Ben has been getting pretty good at it too.

“Do you think anyone would be bothered, if I did?” he asked nastily.  “You’re painfully new to your post, no time to leave any impact.”

Hux stiffened, and Ben smirked.

Hux may not care about Ben’s power, but he certainly cared about his own.

“No one is as good as I am,” Hux said. “I am necessary to them.”

He sounded resolute, certain, but Ben knew that didn’t mean much. Hux has always been good at faking confidence, and Ben used to be often fooled.

That was before his abilities in the Force grew.

“No, you’re not,” he sing-songed, and was satisfied to _feel_ how his words affected Hux. He was rattled, angry that he was rattled. “I am though.”

“Oh?”

“There is only one son of Leia Organa; there are hundreds of officers in the First order.” He shrugged. “In the balance, I win.”

Something strange happened then: Hux calmed, irritation giving way to smugness, and his lips pulled into a smirk. “Do tell yourself that.”

His hand went to toy with something inside his coat, and Ben didn’t have to ask to know it was a blaster. The one he always had on him, for reasons Ben couldn’t even begin to imagine. It was so small, completely impractical in battle, and yet Hux kept such good care of it, polished it regularly and checked for any damage at least once a month.

“You know I can deflect that,” he piped up when Hux’s fondling had gone on for much too long.

Hux stilled, eyebrows quirking up. “Can you?”

Slowly, he pulled his arm from under his coat, retrieving the silver blaster with his finger on the trigger. He stepped forward, closer and closer until he was an arm’s length from Ben.

And then he raised his arms.

The end point of the blaster was inches away from Ben’s face.

“And from this close?” Hux’s voice had dropped. It sounded lower, huskier.

Ben kept his gaze steady. “You wouldn’t shoot me.”

Not this instant, at least.

“I’ve thought about it.” Hux cocked his hand slightly to the right. “Quite a few times.”

Despite himself, Ben felt himself grow defensive at the sight of a deadly weapon aimed right between his eyes. The Force gathered around him like a cloak, ready to be used the instant he willed it. “And if Ben Solo were to suddenly die in mysterious circumstances, do you think no one would notice?”

“Do you think anyone would care? They all left you here after all.”

He reacted before he could even think. His hand shot up, sending the blaster flying out of Hux’s hand.

And then he _squeezed_.

Hux’s hands didn’t come up to his throat, but his mouth did part open. His eyes went wide, his entire body trembling in his efforts to remain standing.

Of course, Ben could not more kill Hux than Hux could kill him, but it was still nice to think about it. A final, ultimate victory, a way to _shut him up_ for good. To humiliate him in a most final way.

He dragged Hux towards him, never relenting in the pressure around his throat. He wanted them close, wanted to loom over Hux so that Ben would be the only thing he saw as his vision blurred.

He dragged Hux closer and closer, and that’s when he felt it.

He hissed. “You kriffing freak.” His free hand went to rub against the bulge in Hux’s pants, grabing it roughly and seeing Hux’s eyelids flutter. “You like that? You like being at my mercy?”

He relented his hold around Hux’s throat just enough to let air go through again. The General gasped, gulped down air, but still remained standing.

“Mercy?” Hux wheezed out, before letting out a breathless chuckle. “Oh _Ben._ I’ve survived the Academy. I’ve crawled my way up the First Order with dozens just waiting to shoot me down.”

“And this?” Ben asked harshly, constricting Hux on all sides, paralyzing him with the Force until he couldn’t even move a finger. He raised his hand, and this time physically wrapped it around Hux’s throat. “Have you ever had to deal with this?”

“This is _nothing_ ,”  Hux answered, face flushed. “At the Academy -”

“Mmh, yes, I bet you have a lot of experience from the Academy,” Ben taunted, leaning closer still. “I bet you did all sorts of things there. I bet they were all very helpful in becoming General.”

Hux’s face contorted in anger at the words. He licked his lips. “Just try and break me, you pathetic child,” he hissed. “I can take it.”

His breath was loud in the otherwise silent room.

Ben’s own had stopped entirely. But only for a moment.

“I believe you.”

With the Force supporting him, he spun them around quickly, slamming Hux chest first against the transparisteel. He roughly shoved his pants down, just enough to expose Hux’s arse.

The redhead hissed in delight when Ben shoved him harder against the window, pinning him completely with his chest and forcing his head back. Ben shoved his fingers into that cruel mouth, and hummed when Hux’s tongue lavished them with saliva, swirling around them so sluttishly.

And then teeth bit him, hard.

He howled, hands shooting up into Hux’s hair and yanking it back. A few strands of hair were pulled off in the process. Neither of them cared.

“One hour until we arrive at destination,” Hux panted. “You better make it count.”

“You better make it good for me, then,” Ben growled back.

 

 

**(20)**

 

One of the many advantages of his uniform was that it was most suitable for hiding finger-shaped bruises. Not that Hux was embarrassed about them in any way, but he was here as a representative of the First Order, and therefore needed to make the best impression possible. It didn’t matter that B’ris allegiance was secure, their financial support was too important to take such liberties.

Which was a shame, really, because Hux wouldn’t have minded ruffling a few feathers here. The people that made B’ris high society were all ex-Imperials that had never joined the First Order, had never needed to because they had managed to keep their wealth even after the fall. They lived in comfort, giving lip service to ideologies they would never take arms to defend, and then claimed to be of the same ilk as those who stood on the front line. As Hux.

Hux despised them, almost as much as the Republic, for the two had the same complacence and luxury-bred softness that came with decadence. Their one saving grace was their support of the cause, and their willingness to give their money, if nothing else. Hux was more than willing to parade himself for them, give flattering speeches and flatter some more in the following reception if it meant that his troops would get the funds they needed.

Besides, the whole endeavor was worth it just for the pleasure of seeing Ben so obviously struggle with himself.

It was so very entertaining to see so many flock around the son of Leia Organa, the scion of the Republic raised by the First Order, fighting for her (who is fighting and for who). They came to him like vultures to carrion, trying to get into his good graces, manipulate him, all for the sake of giving themselves an advantages over their enemies.

Ben had once told him that their mind held no clear picture what advantage was to be gained precisely, or even who their enemies really were. They just knew they had the second, and wanted the first. Hux had laughed for a full fifteen minutes before regaining his composure, and even afterwards could hardly look at Ben without the two of them dissolving into laughter once more.

The memory made him smile, put him in one of his more benevolent moods, and that is why he chose to go to Ben’s rescue when he saw him struggling with a particularly insistent would-be social climber. A middle-aged man, small and overweight, but that made up for his unimpressive physique through sheer persistence and sliminess.

Ben’s face fell when he saw Hux approaching. Hux couldn’t blame him. Usually, in such situations, Hux would only stand to the side and encourage whoever it was Ben was stuck with, going so far as to call him “the First Order’s greatest asset”. It was always highly entertaining to see Ben grow more and more angry, try to keep it in and mentally curse Hux, while powerless to do anything about it lest that master of his punish him most severely.

It was always highly satisfying to remind Ben that the fact that he had the Force didn’t make him the more powerful of the two of them.

Also, an angry Ben was always a delight once they were alone.

“Truly, truly tragic what happened to you in your childhood,” the man lamented in much too put upon compassion. “It makes my heart break. I had expected better of Leia Organa, if only because she came from royalty.”

Ben expression was almost aggressively blank. “I see.”

“Still,” the nuisance continued, “it was great fortune that the First Order took you in in your hour of need.”

“Yes,” Ben spat out through gritted teeth. “It was.”

The little man mistook the forced reply for interest. He spoke again with renewed enthusiasm. “And now here you stand. Lord Ren! What a fearsome title!”

“Is it?”

“Why, of course!” he exclaimed gleefully. “The Knights of Ren are renowned fighters, and that you are their master clearly evokes no small amount of influence and power…”

“Sir Berlu,” Hux stepped in, putting a hand on the man’s sweaty shoulder. He was so thankful for his gloves. “I am terribly sorry to interrupt, but I have some urgent matters to discuss with Lord Ren.” He squeezed the shoulder just shy of painfully. “First Order business, I’m sure you understand.”

Berlu nodded hurriedly, either believing Hux or not willing to call him out on the lie. Whatever the case, it allowed Hux to drag Ben away with little fuss. The Force user sagged in relief as they walked away.

“Brendol,” Ben whispered in his ear. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but _why_ exactly did you help me?”

“Do I need a reason?” Hux asked in lieu of an answer.

Ben scoffed. “To do something kind? Always.”

“And if I told you that I simply decided to be kind today?” Hux asked airily.

He waited for Ben to answer, but nothing came. Instead, he began to feel a gentle brush against his mind, a slight stir like hands lightly rummaging through a drawer. He jerked.

“Stay out of there!” he hissed.

“No, no I won’t,” Ben answered playfully. “Something made you turn down the chance at another power trip, I want to know what it is.”

Still, despite his words, he pulled out of Hux’s mind. That placated Hux a litte, enough for him to reply in humor rather than in anger. “You like my power trips.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “Yes, I enjoy you constantly reminding me of my situation, and occasionally calling me “Republic trash”,” he said with obvious sarcasm. “Why, I’m almost disappointed you haven’t already.”

Hux smirked. “Why would I use our pet names in public?”

Ben opened his mouth, closed it, then gave up and put his head in his hand. He groaned. “I should punch you.”

“You regularly do.”

“I should break your jaw.”

Hux’s breath caught. “You never do,” he answered quietly, licking his lips. “That’s the best part.”

Ben never did truly damage him, because to do so would result in those electric bracelets of his being put to good use again. So no matter how much Hux pushes and provokes, Ben will never go too far. Will never go beyond what Hux wants, what he enjoys.

Well, most of the time.

There had been a few times when Ben got so angry Hux thought he might truly snap, might forego all threat of punishment and retribution and squeeze too much, hit too hard. And though the thrill had been greater than any before, all Hux truly remembered from those instances was fear and shame. He had misjudged the impact of his words, had overplayed his hand, and had been at the mercy of someone else. Had lost control of the situation.

Hux _never_ lost control of a situation.

Ben chuckled almost nastily, and Hux startled. “I distinctly remember otherwise,” Ben whispered, leaning closer so that his breath brushed against Hux’s face. “I remember you being a mess beneath me, powerless to do anything but _take it_.”

“That’s different,” Hux breathed out. “I like it. I make you do it.”

“Trust me, Brendol, you don’t have to force me to hit you.”

Hux shivered.

He so liked it when Ben got in a mood.

“It’s funny,” the Force user continued, voice filled with amusement even though he tried to keep his expression neutral. “You call me trash, but you’re the one whose mind is always in the gutter. When you don’t think about strategies, you think about sex. Such a teenager”

“Completely untrue. I also think about cats,” Hux answers with a grin. “I’ve been thinking of getting one.”

Ben’s lips twitched. “Sex and cats then. Like the Holonet.”

“The Republic Holonet, maybe. The First Order’s one has higher quality content.”

“Weapons and black uniform fashion trends?”

“And Holodramas.”

Ben groaned. “And you call it higher quality. The production was horrible.”

“Yes, well, they were done on a tight budget,” Hux shrugged. “You did seem to enjoy them back on the _Divider._ ”

“That’s because I was bored,” Ben retorted. “Although in this particular instance, they seem so very appealing.” He looked around the room. “How long until we can leave?”

“Not for at least two hours.”

Ben groaned. “Two very long, very painful hours. Almost makes me glad to have you here.”

Hux sighed. “Likewise.”

 

 

 

**(3)**

 

The room, _his_ room, was actually comfortable. His bed was larger than the one he had at home. There was a window with a view of a distant nebula, which swirls of white and blue looked like one of the paintings his mother had hung in their living room. He even had his own fresher.

He felt like crying.

They had left him here alone; the door wasn’t locked. He could try to run away, but he wouldn’t, because he’s a coward. Because he doesn’t know where he is, doesn’t know how to leave, but if his father were in his place he wouldn’t let that stop him.

They put something around his wrist, like a thick metal bracelet. It’s heavy, and whenever he touched it he felt the distant hum of the Force, only it felt oily somehow. He didn’t know what it did and he was scared to find out, but if it had been his mother she would have already known what it was, and would have found a way to escape anyway.

But Ben just stayed there, like a coward.

And he let them take him, even though he had the Force, and should have been stronger, and--

The grey walls looked like dark shadows all around him, closing in, and the world was cold. He wrapped his arms around himself, to keep warm, to keep from shaking, only it didn’t work.

He curled up on himself. He hadn’t let his mother hug him as they left, hadn’t for a long time because he was angry, and too old for hugs anyway. Only he wasn’t, and now his own small arm were a poor substitute.

He wanted to disappear. He wanted the world to fade away.

Instead, he heard the door of his room slide open.

He turned his head sharply to see a boy with red hair walk in. His face was absolutely expressionless as he looked at him.

Ben slowly uncrossed his arms, hunching his shoulders under that unnervingly still stare.

“What do you want?” He asked sharply after the silence had dragged on for too long.

“You’re Ben Solo.”

It wasn’t even a question. It was a statement, a simple fact said in bored contempt. It put Ben even more on edge.

“And?”

The boy crosses his arms. “I was told I was going to spend some time with you. I was hoping for something more impressive.”

Ben grit his teeth. “I don’t want you here.”

“You don’t get a choice. You’re nothing here, not the son of a General, not a Prince. Get used to it.”

He didn’t answer.

His eyes stung, and he looked away to rub away his tears.

The boy, of course, noticed. “Kriff you are pathetic.”

“Shut up.”

“Were you crying when I first entered?” He scoffed. “I bet you were. The Republic is truly made of weak cloth, isn’t it?”

“Shut. Up.”

“I mean, if they had any worth at all, then it wouldn’t have been so easy to bring you here -”

“Shut UP!”

The Force burst out of him, rapid and uncontrolled and exactly why his parents wanted to send him away. He wanted to see the boy go flying backwards, crash into the wall and hopefully break a bone, but instead he merely falls on his back.

His mother wouldn’t have approved. His uncle wouldn’t have either. His father might have, but he wasn’t there anyway. Ben felt like a crumbling dam. He rushed forward towards the boy on the ground, threw himself on him.

He tried to throw a punch, but the boy caught his wrist, his green eyes flashing in anger. Ben felt a fist collide with his jaw, sending him tumbling to the ground as well.

The boy rolled on top of him, pinning him to the ground so effectively Ben thought he must have been trained, and it was unfair.

“Resistance trash,” the boy hissed, “Don’t you ever do that again.”

“Brendol.”

They both froze at the voice. Ben had to swallow a whimper.

The tall man with green eyes was standing in the doorway. He was looking at the two of them impassively, yet somehow disappointment and threat radiated off him in waves.

The boy immediately jumped off him, standing to attention. For a moment, Ben thought that he should just stay on the ground, not move an inch until he knew for certain that it was safe. In the end though, it was too much for his pride to bear.

He stood up, slowly, crossing his arms behind his back to keep from wringing his hands together.

“Ben Solo is our guest, Brendol,” the man said, green eyes narrowing on the boy - who could only be his son, Ben realized then. “I expect you to treat him civilly.”

“Yes, sir,” was the meek reply. It wasn’t as if any other response would be tolerated anyway.

The man nodded once, before turning towards Ben. “Dinner will be at 1900 hours. Perhaps you will be willing to spend that time with my son? I am certain you will appreciate the company.”

Ben could barely move. Couldn’t even speak.

He nodded.

“Good.” The man’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Brendol, come with me. It seems we must work on reigning in your enthusiasm.”

The boy’s jaw clenched, but he followed. Before leaving, he shot Ben a nasty glare, one Ben gave in turn.

“Don’t you ever do something like that again,” he hissed, before making his way towards the door.

“You deserved it,” Ben answered. “And I’ll make you pay for everything.”

The boy paused. His father had already left ahead, but he didn’t seem in too much of a hurry to follow. He turned around, smirking. “I’d like to see you try.”

 

 

**(44)**

 

Ben kriffed up. He knew he had.

Nothing has ever gone right in twenty years, not really, but now bad turned into worse, turned into awful. The whole world was crumbling down, and Ben seemed to only be able to break it apart faster.

He made his choices, none of them were good ones. He didn’t even know how to make them right.

He looked down at Hux, limp in his arms, blood pouring from injuries on his head and on his side.

He didn’t think it was even possible to make things right anymore.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**(24)**

 

Ben had always suspected that he would make a bad Jedi. He had been terrified at the idea of being a good Sith.

How right of him.

Because that was what he was now, a Sith. He couldn’t be anything else, not when the only teacher he ever truly had had only ever shown him the Dark.

And the Dark was so easy to use, because Ben had so much anger to spare. Such untapped reserves of rage that were so easy to turn into a tidal wave, surging through him and crushing whomever he directed it against.

The red glow of his blade only ever spurred him on, invading his vision and melding with the red of his anger. And when it hit its target, the sound it made was like all the screams he had to swallow.

And it felt good.

Ben knew he was dark; knew he was ruined beyond repair. His only saving grace was that he hated Snoke too much to ever truly stand beside him.

It was of little comfort.

 

 

**(18)**

Making his way towards the command center, Ben did his best not to be nervous. Being nervous made him feel like an eager young trainee, a First Order upstart eager to impress his superiors. It was pathetic, and deeply inaccurate.

He was attending the Strategic Meetin **g** because Snoke ordered it of him. Because he is the new leader of the Knights of Ren, and his master wants him there. That was all there was too it. This was an obligation, nothing more.

And yet the idea of facing all those men still made his throat tighten and his heart speed up. He tried to discretely breathe through his nose to calm himself down. It was one of the very few techniques his uncle taught him before all of this. Snoke never would have taught him anything to temper himself, it wasn’t what he was looking for in his apprentice.

It didn’t work much; hyper-oxygenation made his slightly light-headed.

He hated that he had to make such an effort to keep his composure, hated that the officers he was going to meet still cowed him, even now. They were all old, unused to combat, and yet his spine still stiffened in their presence.

It was the Commandant’s fault. Hux’s father had installed in him a wariness of First Order officials that never truly left him now, despite knowing that he was much stronger than him.

That feeling had abated since the Commandant’s retirement, but only so much.

Thoughts of that man awakened the same darkness they always did, and he built upon it. He focused on his hate for Hux’s father, on his hate for the men behind the door. He focused on his hate and his anger, as he had been taught, and it helped much more than any breathing exercise ever had.

“Try to make a good impression in there,” Hux said from his right. “My career may very well depend on it.”

Ben grit his teeth. “I don’t care about your kriffing career.”

Hux rolled his eyes. “Now that’s just hurtful,” he deadpanned.

“You’re already Colonel. What more do you want?”

“To be General,” Hux answered, as if Ben were particularly dim. “The current one is an old husk who is going to topple over any second. I won’t let some other officer snatch the position when it happens. It’s mine.”

“You’re too young to be a General.”

Hux bristled, as Kylo knew he would, but whatever retort he had died when they arrived at the conference room used by higher command.

The round table in the center was surrounded by officers of various rank and fields, as well as a few underlings whose duties were to take notes on each decision made. The discussion was lively, or at least it had been until the two of them entered. Then it became quiet as everyone took Ben in. The reactions went from blank appraisal, to confusion, and in some cases, true anger. 

 “What is he doing here?” an old, bearded man demanded from Ben’s left.

He wasn’t even looking at the Force user. Instead, his glare was directed towards Hux.

 “Who?”  Hux asked amiably.

The man’s face reddened at the obviously deliberate confusion. “The hostage. What is he doing here?”

“Why, Admiral Acksege,” Hux replied pleasantly, “he is here as the apprentice of Supreme Leader Snoke, and the leader of the side division known as the Knights of Ren.”

“The what?”

“The Knights of Ren,” Hux repeated slowly, condescension dripping from his voice. “A group of highly specialized soldiers with higher than average Force-sensitivity – although none of them are Force users, baring their now master. I am sure you understand the interest in having a division that operates outside the regular command structure.”

“And that… that Republic _get_ is to lead them?”

“Yes,” Hux answered, visibly resisting the urge to role his eyes.

Ben could not blame him. Perhaps these officers were too blindly loyal, or had little sense of strategy outside of troops and weapons, but the entire point of the appointment was the Ben was the son of Leia Organa, that he came from the Republic.

The son of Leia Organa, who publicly became the Supreme Leader’s apprentice. Who is now the head of his personal forces.

If they can’t see the perverse brilliance in that, then they don’t deserve their position at all.

But apparently no one told Admiral Acksege as much, for the old man stood up in outrage, spit flying from his lips as he “Surely you cannot be serious, Colonel!”

“But I am,” Hux replied coolly. “These are Orders from the Supreme Leader himself.”

“But it is madness! That…. _spawn_ of Organa should not be allowed anywhere near the command structure. Just because he has been neutered doesn’t mean he isn’t likely to betray us all! He is most likely thinking of it as we speak, has devised so many ways to undermine our-”

He stopped mid-tirade with a chocked sound, eyes bulging and hands clawing at his throat. The gathered assembly all stared at him in horrified shock, before turning their eyes towards the new Lord Ren, with his arm raised and clenching fingers.

Ben was barely aware of them, his entire focus on the man’s face, how it slowly turned purpled, how spit foamed at the corner of his mouth. On how much more he could _squeeze._

He couldn’t take a moment more of him talking. Of how _wrong_ the man was.

He had promised himself he wouldn’t feel shame, but oh, it was so much harder to do when confronted with his own failings.

“That is enough, Lord Ren.”

Part of him wanted to ignore Hux’s order entirely, but he knew Brendol was right. He could get away with killing anyone here. Snoke wouldn’t care. He might even encourage it.

But Snoke wasn’t the only one who had authority to discipline the hostage. And Snoke wouldn’t care either if a First Order Officer decided that a little pain was necessary in order to “set his ideas straight”.

Ben was much better at withstanding pain now. But there hardly seemed a reason to do so these days.

Reluctantly, he lowered his hand, and the Admiral collapsed to his knees, heaving as he struggled to refill his lungs. The rest of the men were looking at him with wide eyes, ducking their heads whenever they met his gaze. Hux’s impassive expression bore hints of satisfaction and smugness.

Ben watched all of this with a sense of detachment. The tightness in his throat was gone, his heart beat had steadied; perhaps it had been releasing tension by using Force, or perhaps it was seeing an old man gulping for air on the ground.

Whatever the case, strangling an officer seemed to be, by all accounts, a wonderful cure for nerves.

“Well, then, gentlemen,” Hux finally said amiably. “Perhaps we can get started now? That is,” he added, turning towards the man sitting at the head of the table, “if you don’t have any objections, General?”

The General, who hadn’t dared step in to stop Ben himself, nodded hurriedly; for a moment, Ben thought the gesture would break his very frail looking neck.

Hux was right. The man was decrepit. He won’t last much longer.

With a nod of acknowledgment, Hux took a seat at the table, on the General’s direct right.

There was a seat left for Ben, but after half a second of deliberation, he made his wall towards the wall, leaned against it and crossed his arms in front of him. If anyone was offended by this display, they certainly didn’t show it.

The General cleared his throat, and the discussion Hux and Ben had interrupted when they entered the room resumed. Ben only half-listened as the officers discussed troop movements and strategic locations; none of this truly concerned him, he had no decisional power.

He was considering just zoning out entirely when he felt something tug at his awareness, a deliberate call of a mind to his own.

 _Congratulations, Ben,_ he heard Hux project towards him, _that really was a good impression._

Ben rolled his eyes with a huff. The officers gathered took it as sullen defiance; a few of them still bristled that one so underserving and dangerous would be allowed to attend when he was so disdainful of all gathered here.

Ben didn’t correct them. They weren’t entirely wrong anyway.

 

 

**(25)**

 

The lead was a dead end. There were no signs of his uncle, no one who had seen him in at least ten years. If Skywalker had ever come to this town, he was long gone by now. Maybe even at the other side of the Galaxy.

Ben didn’t look forward to reporting this. The Supreme Leader would grow impatient at the continued failure; it made him more likely to give out the order to use Starkiller.

But the raid wasn’t a complete failure; one of the villagers had been harboring a Resistance member.

The village was reduced to ashes.

 _Burn down the village; find Skywalker; save five planets,_ Ben thought as he watched the flames. _It will all be worth it._

 

 

**(26)**

 

There was a map. His uncle left behind a map, of all things.

It was as if he _wanted_ to be found.

The Resistance member fell to the ground, shivering from shock and crying weakly. His tears stained the ground.

Ben watched him for a moment.

His lightsaber flashed, and put an end to the man’s trembling.

 _He never would have made it alive,_ Ben thought. _It will all be worth it._

 

 

**(27)**

 

_It will all be worth it._

**(35)**

 

Poe Dameron looked the same as he had when he was a boy. Especially like this, when unconsciousness gave his features a peacefulness he certainly wouldn’t have had otherwise.

As if to prove his point, the pilot startled awake at that moment. He looked around groggily for a few seconds, before survival instinct kicked in and he zeroed in on the threat of the room.

Namely, Ben.

“How are you doing, Dameron?” Ben asked from his place in the corner of the room. He tried to keep his face neutral, it seemed like the safest option.

Poe had no such qualms. He looked at him with shock and wariness, and the worst thing about it was that he was fully justified in doing so. “Ben…” he said, voice trailing off. He probably couldn’t think of anything to say.

If he did, well, odds were that Ben would find out soon enough.

“Best Pilot in the Resistance.” He stepped closer, until he was face to face with him. “You’ve done pretty well for yourself.”

“Not so much right now.”

Despite his resolution, Ben felt his lips pull into a grim smile. “I guess not.”

Neither of them speak for a while. There were so many questions Ben wanted to ask, questions he didn’t want the answer to. It was better, safer to stick to the only one at hand. Made it easier not to think.

“So…” Poe started again, plastering a typical flyboy grin on his face, cocky and charming and meant to hide just how bad the situation was. “Are you going to help me escape? Or is it my job to recue you? I’ve spent enough time here, pretty sure you have, so -”

“Where’s the map?”

The sharp question seemed to resonate in the room, quieting the two of them once more. If the tension had been high before, it was almost unbearable now. At least to Ben, who could barely stand the look Poe gave him.

He knew it would come, knew that sooner or later, he would meet someone he knew from before. If anything, he should be glad that it’s Poe, and not his father. Or mother.

He pushed that thought away, because considering his mother meant considering how she would judge his actions. She wouldn’t understand, he knew that.

Then again, when has she ever?

“Kriff, Ben,” Poe grit out, the explicative more eloquent than a thousand words.

Ben resisted to close his eyes. “Where. Is. The. Map?”

Poe recoiled as much as he could when tied to the interrogation chair. “You know I can’t tell you that.”

Ben narrowed his eyes. “Don’t make me make you.”

The threat tasted like rot on his tongue; the thrum of power that accompanied them made him feel both elated and sick.

“I wouldn’t be making you do anything,” Poe replied through gritted teeth. “It’s you who…” He closed his eyes tightly, letting his head fall back. When he opened them again, his voice was much more steady. “You know, when I saw you kill San Tekka, I thought I was wrong. That it was someone else.”

“He would have died anyway,” Ben protested. “Even if it hadn’t been me. My way was quick, at least.”

But Poe carried on. “And the insurrection on Brogel, and those villages burned in Findris…” His eyes lowered. “Your mother really wanted to believe the rumors were wrong. That they were all lies.” He looked back up, glare back in place. “They weren’t though, were they?”

“Poe…”

“You actually did all those things… I thought you’d be in a cell somewhere, but no. You’re fighting for them.”

“Don’t…”

“People are scared of you; did you know that?  Do you care?”

“ _Dameron,_ don’t you…”

“What the kriff happened, Ben? You killed all those people for _them_ , do you even care -”

“Just tell me where the map is!” Ben shouted. His voice had raised to almost a shout, and he didn’t care because Poe had to _shut up!_

He hadn’t wanted to do all those things, but they were necessary. They were in the way, all of them, and they wouldn’t accept that no matter how much Ben insisted. If only they had joined with the First Order, if only they hadn’t _made him do it…_

If only they all just did what they were told, instead of fighting everything and everyone and making it so hard for Ben. If only they just...fell in line.

“The Resistance won’t be intimidated by you.”

Ben barked out an ugly laugh. “Pretty words. Did they teach you to say that?”

Poe ignored the jab. “Never thought I’d say them to you. Never thought you’d turn traitor.”

“Well, I never thought I’d stay here for twenty years, and look what happened.”

It was impossible to keep the bitterness out of his voice. He didn’t even try to.

He didn’t mention the shackles around his wrists. He doubted it would have made a difference.

Poe blinked, expression suddenly turning pained. “Is that why…? We tried, Ben, I swear. Your mother tried so hard to get you back, but it was hard to find you, and impossible to come close. We did try, though, you have to -”

“Stop.” His voice cracked, ever so slightly.

He didn’t want to hear this. Not now, not after everything. Especially not from Poe, who probably didn’t even know…

“Just tell me where the map is,” he hissed again, cloaking himself in anger and bitterness once more; it kept the guilt at bay. “Before I make you.”

 **“** Ben…” It was Poe’s voice’s turn to crack. “You don’t have to do this…”

“Don’t tell me what I have to do!”

He knew Poe meant nothing by it, even as he meant every word. It was a desperate man’s plea, a last ditch attempt at getting out of this. He knew that.

That didn’t stop his anger from boiling over. “Don’t tell me what I should have done! You don’t know anything!”

He felt the Force coiling around him, and Poe recoiled. He could probably feel it, with that Force sensitive tree of his and all the time spent with Leia Organa, at the Resistance, safe, while Ben, _Ben..._

 “You weren’t here before, so you don’t _get_ to judge now!”

He hadn’t even realized he had stepped closer, hadn’t realized he had stretched his hand out until he was looming over Poe, who was looking at him with wide eyes, sweat prickling at his hairline, jaw clenched and breathing heavily.

Fear.

Poe was afraid of him.

Ben almost laughed, because of _course_ he was. Why wouldn’t he be? Trapped on an enemy starship with a psychotic Force user. A dangerous place to be. Ben would be scared to if he were in his place.

But Ben never was a valiant Resistance member. He never got the chance.

He probably wouldn’t have been good at it anyway.

“We can run,” Poe murmured, but it was with little conviction. He knew Ben wouldn’t listen. “We’ll go back to the Resistance. We can go back.”

Ben only stared.

He knew better.

“No, we can’t.”

He tried to be gentle as he pushed into the pilot’s mind.

But mind probing is invasive and unnatural, so he wasn’t surprised to hear him scream anyway.

 

 

 

**(30)**

 

Ben had Hux pinned down on the mat, flat on his stomach. His knee was digging into the General’s back.

Hux hissed. “You won this round, Solo,” he admitted reluctantly. It must have been extremely humbling to say, considering that Ben still had a wound on his side that hasn’t fully healed. “Let me up and we’ll start a new one.”

Ben’s sole response was to twist Hux’s arm.

“Beast,” Hux spit out. Ben couldn’t see his face, but could hear the smile in his voice.

“Funny you should say that, when you bit me during our last session.”

“And you called me a cheater,” Hux answered in a chuckle. “As if battle has rules.”

Ben leaned forward, so that his mouth was brushing against Hux’s ear. “Funny you should say that,” he murmured, “when you won’t let me use the Force.”

“And you obeyed,” Hux shot back, squirming beneath him. “You only have yourself to blame.”

In lieu of an answer, Ben let go of Hux’s arm, and snaked his hand around Hux’s neck. He let it rest just above Hux’s throat, not squeezing but holding.

He felt him swallow, smiled -

“General. Lord Ren.”

Both of them looked up to see Phasma standing there. It was hard to tell what her expression was with her mask still on, but Ben had the distinct feeling she was unimpressed.

“What is it, Captain?” Hux asked from beneath him, voice as steady as ever, not a hint of embarrassment in it.

Because of that, Ben didn’t make any move to get up.

“We have a new lead on Skywalker. An old nomad on Jakku.”

He heard Hux snicker beneath him. He ignored it.

“Thank you Captain,” he said in the most distant voice he could manage. “I will make preparations.”

Phasma saluted once, then left. She may have shot them a look as she did, but again, they’d never know.

“Jakku,” Hux mused, standing up as well. “Not far from our position.”

Ben said nothing.

“I should make sure we have Corellian brandy in my quarters. With luck, we will be celebrating toni-”

A large blow of the Force slammed Hux back down. Ben heard Hux curse then snicker behind him, but he didn’t turn around to look as he stormed away.

 

 

 

**(13)**

The only reason the Academy ever let its cadets go on “vacation” was to save resources. Training a whole new generation of military officers was costly, after all. Besides, most of the cadets’ “homes” were either ships or command centers, and thus their training never truly ended even during the supposed leisure time.

Still, the time he spent on his father’s _Decimator_ were much less grueling than any other time of the year. Mainly because Commandant Hux couldn’t waste any personnel for something as trivial as surveilling his son, and so Brendan was often left to his own devices. During the day, that meant making himself useful around the ship.

At night, it meant stealing from the alcohol reserve kept aboard the ship.

It was a surprisingly easy thing to do, really. Liquor, while a luxurious good, was not essential by any means, and so wasn’t as closely regulated as other goods. If a small but reasonable amount were to disappear, no one would notice.

Also, being the son of Commandant Hux was useful in intimidating Stormtroopers. The threat of re-education was usually enough to have them keep their mouth shut.

Over time, Hux has accumulated quite a stash. He stole more than he actually drunk, preferring not to get in the habit of drinking alone every night. As much as he enjoyed the activity, it was simply too risky to partake as regularly as he’d like.

It was frustrating, to be sure, but Hux had enough self-discipline to keep himself in check. Besides, after some reflection, he had come up with a more than acceptable substitute to drinking the liquor himself:

He was going to get Ben Solo drunk.

He knew for a fact that the Force user had never had a drink in his life, and he honestly couldn’t imagine that Ben would be any good at holding his liquor. Add to that his general personality while sober, and Hux was positive that a drunk Ben Solo was bound to be highly entertaining.

It hadn’t been that hard to get Ben to drink. All Hux had to do was mention that his father would disapprove, and Ben had all but snatched the bottle from his hands.

About twenty minutes later, Ben was sitting on the floor, back against the wall and legs splayed out in front of him. He had fallen there some time ago, and hadn’t bothered picking himself back up. Instead, he had started talking, verbalizing whatever thought came through his mind at that given moment.

Right now, his attention seemed to be on his hate for Hux’s father.

“Your dad’s th’ worst, Bren,” the youth slurred, punctuating the statement with a slam of his fist on the ground. “I hate him! He is…the worst!”

“Hmm... that isn’t true,” Hux replied from his place on the bed. He was lying on his stomach, head propped on his hand, watching Ben as if he were a particularly entertaining holo. “I rather like my father, and I’ve known worse men than him.”

Ben shook his head wildly. “No you don’t! Your lying!” He pointed towards himself. “I do. Snoke is _bad._ Your dad’s bad, but Snoke is badder!”

“Well then,” Hux replied sweetly, “if Snoke is “badder” then how can my father be the worst?”

Ben blinked at that, once, twice, looking at Hux in utter confusion before slumping against the wall, eyes deep in contemplation as if the entire foundation of his life had been put into question.

It was hilarious.

Hux gave himself a good thirty seconds to savor Ben’s beautifully bewildered face, before taking pity on him. “There is an officer at the Academy called Thanisson,” he offered, drawing Ben’s attention back on him. “A true incompetent, and he knows it. So he abuses what little authority he has in a pathetic attempt to hide that fact. Him, I would call the worst.”

Ben looked as if he disagreed on a fundamental level, but held his tongue in an uncharacteristic display of diplomacy. Instead, he asked, “Why don’t y’ just shoot him? Ya like shooting people.”

“If I did shoot him, I would most certainly not get away with it.”

“But if ya could, you would?”

“Yes,” Hux answered simply. He cocked his head, curiosity awakened. “Who would you kill, if you could get away with it?”

“Can’t kill anyone. Bracelet’s shock. Hurts.”

“But if you could?” Hux pressed.

Ben looked at the bottle in his hand, frowning at it. He’d probably had enough for the evening, Hux thought regretfully, and so he got up and gently took it from the youth’s hands. Ben whined in protest, but didn’t fight him too hard, and Hux made his way back to the bed, laying the bottle on top of the sheets.

“I would kill your dad, y’know,’ Ben said. “If I could get away with it.”

Hux wasn’t surprised. He wasn’t even mad; he knew he would kill Ben’s mother if given a chance. “Not Snoke?”

“No. Can’t,” he mumbled. His face pinched. “Too strong. Couldn’t never, I just can’t…. He’s _so strong_ , Bren.”

Hux nodded. “I am well aware.”

“But you don’t get it!” Ben cried out.

The bottle on Hux’s bed exploded, shards of glass flying in every direction. Hux leaped of the bed in a moment, years of training giving him enough reflexes to dodge quickly. Still, even as he did he knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid all the sharp edges that had been blasted his way, and he raised his arm in front of his face.

He had to protect his eyes, that was the main issue. Protect the eyes, leave at least one arm intact so that he can throttle Ben immediately afterwards. And then slap himself, because how did he ever think that getting a kriffing _Force user_ drunk was a good idea?

The expected sting of glass entering his arm never came though. After a few beats, he carefully lowered it, and saw all the shards of glass hanging perfectly still in the air.

Ben was looking at them in rapt concentration, the intensity in his eyes unnerving on such a young looking face. His hand was outstretched, and slowly he closed his hand into a fist. One by one, the glass shards started crumbling to dust, the cascade of silvery white pooling at Hux’s feet.

Hux watched it all happen, trying not to blanch. The practical yet gruesome part of him couldn’t help but wonder if doing the same thing to a human body would require less or more effort. The strategic part, the one that had helped him survive the Academy, was yelling at him.

He miscalculated. He got Ben drunk, and now he has no control over what will happen next. He lost control of the situation, and he knew what happened to people who were so foolish as to let it happen.

Stupid. Stupid, dangerous, he is such an idiot and _why did he let this happen why did he -_

“Ben, enough!” he ordered with as much composure as he could muster.

It was the wrong thing to say. Ben’s attention was back on him now, and the remaining shards stopped turning to dust. Instead, they started flying around the air, a few of them coming dangerously close to Hux, who refused to take a step back.

“Snoke taught me,” Ben said, the slur in his voice having disappeared in favor of a hysterical edge. “And he can do so much worse than this, and I think he did it with bones once, only there were still inside a person and _he’ll teach me how to do that to!_ ”

The shards went flying then, so fast Hux didn’t have the time to blink. One of them grazed his cheek, the others went right over his head, in the crook of his neck, barely avoiding him before being hurled against the wall.

Hux’s fingers rushed to his face, a reflex even though he knew the injury wasn’t severe. When he pulled them away, they were bloody, but not much.

“Kriffing hell, Ben,” he hissed, turning back to glare at the boy. Despite the venom in his voice, he was shaking, and had to clench his fists to hide the fact. His nails dug painfully into his palm.

Ben’s eyes were sad as he looked upon him. “You’re scared of me,” he murmured. He let his head fall back against the wall. “I thought I’d be happy. M’not though. T’s your fault.”

“I’m not scared of you, Ben. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Yeah you are,” Ben mumbled, eyes dropping close. “Should be. Still might kill you someday.”

Hux didn’t have a reply ready for that one; it turned out he didn’t need one.

Ben had passed out, from using the Force, or the liquor, or both. He was slumped against the wall, head lolling to the side at an uncomfortable looking angle. It would hurt when he woke up.

Hux looked around the room, at the mess of glass shards and glass dust on the floor. This entire night had ended in disaster.  If Ben was at all clever, he will clean up the mess himself when he wakes up rather than call a droid for it.

He sneered, then hissed when sneering pulled at the wound on his cheek.

Kriffing Ben.

Hopefully the bacta would have it healed by tomorrow. He did _not_ want to explain this to his father.

There was nothing left for him here apart from cleaning up the mess, which he was not going to do seeing as it was entirely Ben’s doing.

Still, because he still took responsibility for his actions, and because the only witness was passed out drunk on the floor, he did lay Ben in a more comfortable position before leaving the room.

**(31)**

 

“The map is in a droid. A BB unit. I leave in an hour.”

There was no reason for Ben to report directly to Snoke about this. The only reason he was here at all was because his master had personally requested that he be there. In his early days, he would have thought it to be simple cruelty. He knew better now.

Snoke’s cruelties were never simple, and always had a purpose.

“You’ve done well, my apprentice.” Snoke’s smile was subtle and soft. It reminded Ben of his mother’s smile. What he could remember of it.

His stomach churned at the thought.

“Very well indeed,” Snoke repeated, leaning back as he looked at Ben pensively.

“Tell me, my apprentice. Do you hate me?”

Ben felt himself blanch.

“Yes,” he whispered, because all though he didn’t know where the question led, he knew that the only way to truly lose was to lie.

“I could have made you love me,” Snoke said conversationally. “I’ve considered it for a long time. In the end, I chose to leave you your hate.” He leaned forward. “Do you know why?”

Ben didn’t want to answer. He didn’t want to follow this line of conversation.

It really didn’t matter what he wanted, though.

“No.”

Snoke smiled then, fully showing his teeth, and his voice was infused with pride when he next spoke.

Whether it was pride in himself or in Ben, Ben didn’t know.

“Darth Vader hated his master.”

Ben closed his eyes.

“Yet he was taught by him. And he obeyed, because Darth Sidious brought him power. And you, my apprentice, the blood of his blood, do you not see yourself in him?”

 

 

**(16)**

 

Strands of hair stuck to his forehead, covered his eyes, but Ben didn’t care for he barely used his eyes at all anymore.

It was all the Force, guiding him, surging through him, resonating in his every snarl as he struck again and again and again against the Knight who _dared_ try and bring him down.

Who did he think he was, that Forceless creature? What did he think he could accomplish against Ben, who had wielded a lightsaber since he was ten?

Sino Ren fell to the ground; his arm flew into the air. The severed limb was still clutching the mace that had been his weapon.

“Mercy,” came the whimper, weak and pathetic.

Ben’s lips pulled back into a sneer. The Force sang in his every cell.

He was strong. He was strong, and none would shackle him any longer.

“No.”

It took the smell of burning flesh to pull him out of his high.

In the distance, in his mind, Snoke laughed and laughed.

 

**(32)**

 

“My apprentice,” Snoke all but cooed, “the strongest I have ever trained. I only wish for you to reach your potential.”

His potential. Is that what they call it now?

 _So much Vader in him,_ his uncle had whispered worriedly once, before Ben had ever touched a red saber or learned how easy it could be to squeeze the air out of someone’s lungs.

“Darth Vader turned to the Light, in the end,” he said almost automatically. It is what his mother told him, time and time again. It is what he whispered to himself over and over again, a hopeless prayer, a desperate mantra.

Surely, if Vader did it, then there is hope for him? Surely, there is a way to stop craving, to enjoying it so much?

“Yes, that is true,” Snoke said slowly. “Even the greatest falter.”

“He did it out of love.”

He felt bolder, speaking those words out loud. Saying them to Snoke. It felt like fighting back, like Resistance.

Like perhaps he wasn’t ruined after all.

But Snoke has always been so good at destroying such feelings in him.

“And what caused him to join Sidious?” he asked. It was a simple question. It was a deadly blow. “Was it not love for the wife the Jedi would have denied him?”

Ben didn’t answer, couldn’t think of any rebuttal, and so Snoke continued.

“The Jedi denied attachment, denied passion, denied themselves everything that would cause them to stray from their own rules. They limited themselves, for to broaden their world would cause them to see the Dark Side.”

Snoke leaned back into his chair. “Hate. Attachment. Rage. Love. They all lead to the same. The Dark will set you free.”

The silence that followed those words was oppressive.

“I have no attachments here, Supreme Leader.” Ben’s voice sounded numb to his own ears.

It was a poor defense.

It was also probably a lie.

Snoke didn’t seem to mind this time though. He smiled. “Ah, but you have hate. And the two are so often the same.”

 

 

**(11)**

 

“Hux,” Ben growled. It was a weak sound. He could barely make anything get past his throat, so crushed as it was by that deceptively thin arm.

“Shut up, Solo,” Hux sneered.

The pressure on his throat grew stronger, and this time Ben suppressed a sob.

There were so many people around them, watching, evaluating, seeing how helpless the son of Organa was without the Force. How strong the First Order was, that its children could prove such skilled fighters despite their young age.

Ben closed his eyes. It had to end soon, it had to. They wouldn’t let him die.

And when it does he will launch himself at Hux and bite those hands that crushed him.

 

 

**(38)**

 

“Bren,” Ben whimpered. It was a weak sound. He could barely make anything get passed his throat, so filled as it was with grief and sorrow and all that he could not name.

“Sshh, Ben,” Brendol whispered back.

The hands that caressed him grew gentler still, and Ben let out a sob.

They were alone in the world, in the Galaxy; alone but together, and Ben was so full of Hux, so full he thought he might drown in him. And how appropriate it would be, that Ben Solo, so weak, so useless, would find the strength he needed in the feeling of Hux inside him. In the feel of his lips on his neck, of his hair between his fingers.

There was a whole in the world, the size of five planets and billions of lives, but in the arms of the man responsible, Ben could almost forget that.

Ben closed his eyes. It had to end soon, it had to. The pressure and warmth that were building within him would overflow, an unstoppable wave washing over the two of them. If there were any justice in the Galaxy, then they will both burn and drown from it.

And when he does Hux’s arms will be there to catch him, and Ben will kiss those hands that have kept him together.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

**(xxxx)**

 

“How did you stand it?” some members of the Resistance would ask him, when suspicion had waned and sympathy took its place. “How did you stand it, being surrounded by enemies all the time? Twenty years, friendless and alone and unloved.”

And Ben didn’t answer, couldn’t, because the answer had been the same then as it was now.

He wasn’t alone.

And he didn’t know about love, but the First Order always did things very differently anyway.

 

 

**(17)**

 

There was no such thing as a graduation ceremony at the Academy, mainly because all cadets were immediately dispatched to their assignments after they completed their courses. It suited Hux just fine, seeing as he had little desire to celebrate with his peers.

That being said, a celebration was called for, and that is how he ended up drunk, sprawled on the floor of his quarters, back propped against his bed while Ben was sitting against the wall. There were two empty bottles lying between them, and a third one that was well on its way to joining them.

“Give me the brandy, would you kindly?” Hux asked, stretching his arm out. His diction and grammar were still impeccable, but his face was flushed and his movements sluggish.

He still presented a better picture than Ben, who had the disadvantage of having easily mussed hair to compliment his too shiny eyes. More telling still was the way the bottle shook slightly as it hovered towards Hux’s opened hand. The liquor must really have begun to affect him if his control of the Force was so diminished.

“Thank you,” Hux said as it landed in his hand. He tossed his head back as he took a swig, closing his eyes and savoring the slight spice of this particular brew. Ben preferred sweet Corillian wine, he knew, but since the Force user almost never had the opportunity to buy any alcohol, Hux was the one to supply. And he did it according to his own tastes. “You should have some too,” he added, without moving his head.

“Why?” Ben’s voice was slightly hoarse, his speech much more slurred than Hux’s. Diction was always the first thing he dropped whenever he started drinking.

“We are celebrating, Ben. I have graduated First Cadet of my promotion.”

Ben rolled his eyes, but still reached out towards the bottle. “You knew you would,” he mumbled, before tossing his head back for a gulp.

“Yes.” Hux hummed at the sight of Ben’s exposed throat. So pale, like the rest of him, fragile looking despite all of the boy’s bulk. The Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he drank.

Hux licked his lips.

“But aren’t you happy for me?” he cooed, leaning forward, his arm balanced on his knee.

“Mmh,” was the only reply he got, and it was enough.

Ben has always been a horrible liar, and he knew it. That he didn’t deny it was more than enough proof that he was, in fact, happy for him. That he would never admit it was almost beside the point.

It made Hux smile. “You know, the First Cadet gets first pick of where he is stationed,” he added conversationally. “Everyone wants to be on board of the _Finalizer_.”

“I know.” Ben’s voice dragged on the last word, both from irritation and inebriation. “You’ve said it before.” He pulled himself up from his slouch, grunting as his spine straightens. “Can’t blame them though. It’s a nice ship. Brand new.”

“Better than the Falcon?” Hux asked, tony innocent but smile sharp.

“Much,” Ben answered distractedly, before blushing furiously when he caught his answer.

On some days, it would have been enough to make him relapse into anger, or at least to start brooding. Tonight though, he merely grumbled under his breath as he took another swig from the bottle. “I never told him I didn’t like it – my dad, I mean. I don’t think he’ll ever know.”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Hux offered as Ben gives him the bottle. There was only a little left now, and he finished it as Ben scoffed.

“Wasn’t the case for Tarkin. You didn’t tell him that airlock was... “defective”. Look what happened to him.”

Hux let out a laugh at the memory. “True, but to be fair, he deserved it.”

It was Ben’s turn to laugh then, a breathless chuckle as he let his head fall back. “True.” He let out a long breath. “My dad deserved that ship. Couldn’t be trusted with a more modern one.”

Hux hummed in acknowledgment, eyes never leaving Ben for a moment.

Ben Solo. Resistance Scum.

Surprisingly enjoyable to be around, and in possession of superior quality hair. And an eight-pack.

In a second, the decision was made.

“Do you know why else I wanted to be on the Finalizer?” he asked, shifting his weight so that he was resting on his hands.

“I’m sure I don’t.”

“I also wanted it,” he said slowly, licking his lips, “because that’s where they keep you.”

Ben lifted his head up again, looks at him sharply. His eyes widened slightly when Hux pulled himself forward to crawl towards him - standing felt like too much of an effort at that moment. He didn’t move as Hux got closer and closer, didn’t make a sound until a pale, delicate hand comes to rest on his knee.

“What are you doing?” Ben breathed out, voice shaky and uncertain, and dissolving into a small yelp when Hux straddled his hips. His mouth parted open when he saw the look in Hux’s eyes.

The redhead smiled. “What I want.”

His long fingers ran through Ben’s hair. Those dark, thick locks had long been so enticing to him, to finally be able to touch them was a… relief? Gratitude?

The word eluded him. All he knew is that they were very soft.

Ben closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, smiling slightly as the back of Hux’s fingers came to trail against his cheek.

He startled when Hux’s thin, cold lips came to press at the corner of his own.

Hux didn’t comment upon it, just pulled away to toy with a stray strand of hair. He looked as removed as ever, he knew.

Inside though, he was burning with impatience, almost giddiness.

Ben felt so huge around him, all muscle mass and broad shoulders. Hux had seen them from up close more than once, during the few times they sparred together. Ben would always pin him to the ground, far more aggressive in his hits than is appropriate for training. Hux loved it. He always made sure to get Ben angry before every single one of their fights.

“The other boys at the Academy…” he murmured thoughtfully, placing his hand flat against Ben’s chest. “They were fine. Got the job done. I never wanted them though. Just made do.”

“You…” Ben started, only to be interrupted by his own convulsive swallowing.  He blushed, all shy and self-conscious, such a sheltered little thing after almost a decade spent in custody. “Several times?” He finally forced out with a squeak.

Hux chuckled almost affectionately. “Mmh… Some did it for protection. Needed someone to get rid of their tormentors, and had nothing else to bargain with. A few of them though thought I was _pretty_. Those ones did it for free.” He paused, tilted his head with a smirk. “Are you jealous?”

Ben swallowed. “It’s none of my business.”

“Shame.” Hux leaned forward, draping his arms around Ben’s neck. He played with the hair at the nap of his neck as he leaned closer. “I was hoping you’d be.”

Ben’s eyes were so wide, so dark now. His face was flushed, and not just from the alcohol. “Bren…”

“If only you had been there, Ben,” he whispered, lips hovering over Ben’s own. He chuckled darkly. “I would have taken _such_ good care of you.”

Kissing Ben Solo was... well, it was messy. Hux’s lips were the only ones to move at first, and when Ben finally caught up he was sloppy and uncoordinated. His lips tasted of alcohol though, and there was a sluggish enthusiasm to the kiss that made Hux’s head spin.

When he felt Ben growing more confident, he pulled away, reveling in the small whimper he got as a reward.  “Was I your first?” he crooned. He knew the answer. He wanted to hear Ben say it.

It took a long time for Ben to catch his breath - how cute - and when he did, he was barely able to string a sentence together. “I… I never…” he stammered, blushing furiously in embarrassment. It is a lovely color. “There was no one…”

Hux took mercy upon him, a very rare occurrence. “It’s okay,” he cooed with a smile. He felt Ben relax beneath him, saw him smile warily at Hux’s sweet reassurance. Hux trailed his fingers down Ben’s chest, and pressed a quick kiss to Ben’s lips when the tip of his fingers brushed against the top of Ben’s pants. “It’s okay,” he said again in a whisper. “I can still take care of you.”

Ben didn’t stop Hux when he slid his hand into his pants, just kept breathing faster and faster until Hux’s hand wrapped around his cock, already hard and heavy and big.

Hux unconsciously licked his lips. Then he began to stroke.

Ben’s hands shot up immediately to grab Hux’s waist, not pushing him away but squeezing him. Tight, too tight because Ben never had any sort of self-control. Hux’s breathing felt slightly hindered, which was a brand new sensation, but one Hux instantly decided that he liked. It was a shame that Ben is too drunk to use the Force properly, because Hux heard many stories about what a Force user can do, and the idea of such pressure, squeezing, _suffocating_ -

One hand removed himself from his waist, but before Hux could growl in protest, it came to rest right over the bulge in his pants. Large hands, strong hands, but so clumsy and what did Ben think he - oh!

Oh, but it was different! It was different when it was Ben’s hand instead of any other’s. It was clumsy, and uncoordinated, because Ben was inexperienced and drunk. But it was so… so eager, and Ben. It was Ben’s hand, Ben’s touch, Ben’s entire attention and that was enough to make Hux’s mind spiral down into want. Ben touching him made him giddy and hungry and out of control – and no, no that wouldn’t do.

He used his free hand to grab Ben’s wrist, squeezing too tightly and pulling it away in an amazing show of willpower. The movement made his cock rub against Ben’s thigh, and he had to stop breathing entirely to not make a sound. Or worse, start rutting.

“You’re too kriffing drunk for that, Ben,” Hux said, trying so very hard to keep himself from panting. “Stop pawing at me. It’s embarrassing.”

Ben’s face flushed redder, humiliation adding itself to lust and liquor. He opened his mouth, probably to talk back. Hux’s fist tightened around his cock, and a high keen came out instead of whatever insult had been on his tongue.

Once started, it seemed impossible to make Ben quiet again. He mewled, moaned, babbled as Hux put into practice every single trick he knew. His sounds filled the room, danced in Hux’s mind. It was heady, and when Hux rewarded him by sucking on the crook of his neck, he was rewarded in turn by the return of that punishing grip around his waist.

Hux hummed in pleasure as his lips developed a mind of their own, kissing their way up Ben’s neck to his mouth. He chuckled as Ben bucked and writhed beneath him, moaned louder and louder as Hux’s strokes grew faster and faster.

“Bren!” Ben cried out, thrusting into the closed fist.  His hands squeeze tighter still, and Hux just knew he is going to bruise, and moaned at the thought. “Bren, I…”

Hux really, really liked the when Ben sounded. He always had.

He liked the way he looked. He liked the way he moved. He liked a lot of things about Ben, even though he was Republic Filth, and was usually very good at keeping it mostly secret.

Not always, though. Not tonight.

“Oh, oh Ben!” Hux breathed out, sounding so enraptured and not caring one moment. “I _wanted_ you!”

It was different at the Academy. It was all business and stress relief. The girls there he didn’t care for, and the boys… well, some of them were good looking. Some of them were clever enough to tolerate. They were all like him, in a way. All forged in the brutality of their training.

They knew how to keep quiet, so they didn’t mewl and keen the way Ben did. They knew how to be guarded at all times, so their face was never lost in bliss the way Ben’s was.

And they were all loyal to the First Order, and trained to serve. Like Hux, except Hux was better at it than any of them, and so he rose above them. And they all did as he said, because they knew better than to do otherwise. And they all flocked to him, because he was very good at besting both older students and their instructors.

Ben didn’t do what Hux tells him to do. Ben hated the First Order half the time. Ben was messy, undisciplined, uncontrolled. Ben could overpower him so easily, could crush him in an instant.

Ben was so easy to provoke and so easy to predict. Ben was a familiar beast, a dangerous toy, Hux’s to play with. Ben could crush him so easily, but never would, and that meant Hux was in control.

Ben had black hair Hux wanted to pull on and that might get him bitten if he tried.

Ben was his favorite.

Hux pulled his head from where it laid in the crook of Ben’s neck, trailing his lips over his cheeks until they came to rest over the shell of his ear. Ben shivered. Hux smiled.

“You’re such a kriffing mess, Solo,” he whispered still smirking against Ben’s lips. “I think I’ll keep you.”

Ben came with loud keen, the furniture around them shaking as he spilled himself all over his chest and Hux’s hand. Hux didn’t stop his stroking, determined to wring every last drop out of the boy, drinking in the sight of his slack jaw and half closed eyes.

When Ben collapsed backward, a blissed-out expression on his face and his body limp, his hands fell to his side as well, leaving Hux still straddling his lap and still so very hard.

Of course, Ben wouldn’t do anything about it now, too deep lethargic euphoria, too drunk, and Hux’s earlier words still too fresh. His brain was fried, which meant that his very large hands wouldn’t be wrapping itself around Hux’s cock any time soon.

Hux didn’t mind though. Why care when taking himself in hand was more than enough with him so close to the edge already? Why care, with Ben limp and stated at Hux’s hands, half-lidded eyes never leaving Hux’s?

Why care when he will be aboard the _Finalizer_ , and Ben as well, and there will be more than enough time for them to do it a thousand times over?

And Ben will be sober then. Sober, and stronger, more alert. With his muscles, and the Force, he could _so_ easily pin Hux down. Broad frame crushing Hux entirely, and Hux would spit and taunt, would know exactly what to say to make Ben _angry,_ and then, oh _then_...

He was pulled out of his fantasy by Ben’s ugly chuckle. “You’d only need to ask, and I’d beat you bloody.”

Hux moaned as he came, low and long as he spilled himself all over both of them, adding to the filth that already coated Ben’s robes. When he was done he collapsed on Ben's chest, right over their combined mess.

It was disgusting. Hux loved it.

Ben’s large hand came to rest on the back of his neck. “Satisfied?”

“I should ask you that,” Hux retorted, not moving an inch. “You’ve probably been dreaming someone would touch you for years.”

Ben grunted. “Get up. I can feel the cum cooling. It’s disgusting.”

“I’d thought you’d be used to filth,” Hux mumbled back, but got up anyway.

Before Ben could stand as well, he quickly made his way to the fresher. He didn’t let Ben follow him in before he locked the door behind him, and was rewarded with a string of curses loud enough to go through the thick metal.

Even better was when Ben ripped the door open with the Force and slammed Hux against the fresher walls.

 

 

**(21)**

Through the large window in his quarters, Hux was looking at a gas cloud slowly drift through space, its red wisps sluggishly parting and reuniting as it made its way across the Galaxy. Ben watched him do it from a distance; even without his abilities, he could have felt the anger rolling of Hux in waves.

He didn’t know why the General was staring at it so intently. It was just gas in a mildly vivid color; he had seen such things so many times before, and this one was no more remarkable than the foul smoke that came out off a decrepit speeder. It shouldn’t catch his attention so.

Tentatively, he reached out into Hux’s mind. Lightly, just enough to pick up surface thoughts.

Through Hux’s eyes, he saw the red cloud pulling and stretching; to Hux, it brought to mind a faulty lightsaber made from a cracked crystal.

Frowning, Ben dug deeper, trying to find an explanation. Hux didn’t react, not even a twitch. That wasn’t normal though, Ben thought, he should have felt the intrusion by now, why wasn’t he doing anything, what had him so distracted that –

Oh.

Hux’s father died.

He was buried today.

Hux dug his nails into his palm. “Did you kill him?” he asked, voice flat.

“No.”

He turned towards Ben, glaring with all his might at the unusually impassive boy. “Are you _lying?_ ”

Ben wished he was. The death of Commandant Hux had been a recurring daydream of his, somedays gruesome, others dramatic, but the common denominator in all his fantasies was that his death was by his hands. That the man had met his end through an idiotic accident, of all things, felt like a personal failure.

“It was an airlock malfunction,” he reminded Hux.

If there was any consolation to be had, it would be that Commandant Hux had died in such a cliché way. It was grotesquely comical, and Ben liked to think that the man was turning in his grave.

Hux’s lips pulled into a sneer. “There seem to be a lot of those going around,” he murmured, turning back towards the window.

The problem was that unlike Thanisson’s death, this accident was plausible. Hux’s father was old, and thus had been removed from the frontlines. The ship he had been stationed on was an old model, probably hadn’t gone to maintenance in a while due to the limited gain it would bring.

It was possible, and Hux wouldn’t have put it in question if it weren’t for the fact that Kylo had been sent on a mission on that very ship the day his father died.

A Force guided coincidence, perhaps.

Ben looked at Hux, who stood stiller than usual, breathed more heavily than was natural for him. A cloud of frustration, anger and sadness hung over him, particularly jarring on a man who displayed so little emotion, even when looking through the Force.

And despite all the years Ben spent by Hux’s side, he was still surprised by the reaction.

He hadn’t thought the two of them close. Hux hadn’t spoken to his father with any sort of regularity, not since he became his co-worker, and then his superior. A few holocalls on particular milestones, a meeting once or twice when schedule allowed. His father had never resented having a higher-ranked son, but he did expect said son to be utterly devoted to his work.

To Ben’s willfully distant view, the relationship between the two seemed cold and formal.

Yet obviously, there was more to it than that. Hux wouldn’t be so miserable if he hadn’t cared for his father, wouldn’t be so raw and open.

Wouldn’t be so vulnerable.

It was the first time Ben was in this position, calm and collected when Hux was fraying at the seams. It was the first time, and it may never happen again.

So of course, he seized the moment. “I’m glad your father’s dead.”

Hux turned towards him sharply, face frozen in shock and anger.

His fists were trembling.

“What was that, Solo?”

“I said,” Ben repeated slowly, “I’m glad he is dead.”

He saw the punch coming from miles away – Hux was in no condition to be stealthy. Ben caught the fist easily in his hand, giving it a painful squeeze before adding: “I’m sorry he didn’t suffer more.”

Hux tried to strike him again, and Ben ducked. Then came another punch.

And another.

It wasn’t like Hux to be so aggressive, so physically violent. But apparently he loved his father, who knew?

And so it made him irrational. Made him forget that the only advantage he had over Ben was his strategic mind.

With his attacks so uncontrolled, it was only a matter of minutes before Ben managed to wrestle him to the ground. He pinned him to the floor, his knee on Hux’s back.

“Get of me” Hux screamed, bucking uselessly against Ben’s much larger frame. “You Republic trash! Get off me!”

“But isn’t this what you like usually?” Ben hissed back. “I heard you thinking about it, all the time. Pinned against a flat surface, to be hit and clawed at. For such a control freak, you _so_ enjoy being overwhelmed.”

“I hate you!”

Ben chuckled darkly. “I know.”

Hux struggled some more, growling and bucking, but Ben was simply stronger, even without the Force. Hux realized that eventually, or rather resigned himself to it, and so he gave up his struggles. It didn’t stop him from seething.

“You’re fucking pathetic,” he hissed, twisting his neck so that Ben would see his glaring green eyes.

“I’m not the one pinned to the ground.”

“No, you’re not, are you? Ben Solo, finally getting his own back!” Hux’s mockery was as sharp as ever, yet it didn’t sound nearly as calculated. “Pinning the General of the First Order to the ground, mocking him when his father is dead. Fucking fantastic power play, I am certain you feel better about yourself!”

“Why, Brendol,” Ben purred, leaning forward. “you would know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

Hux blanched in outrage. “I’m going to kill you,” he seethed, which wasn’t a denial.

Ben smirked. “No, you won’t.”

“I would, if I could get away with it.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“I fucking hate you.”

“We’ve established that already.”

Hux’s mouth parted open once more, but no sound came out. His glare was fading, narrowed eyes growing larger and larger. He shook his head slightly, as if dismayed by his own lack of response.

And then he deflated. He let himself fall to the ground, completely this time, his head turned towards the side as he stared at the wall. His eyes were full of morbid incredulity, dripping into his voice and making him sound both distraught and perversely amused.

“My father’s dead, Ben,” he whispered.

Ben paused.

It wasn’t like Hux to sound so defeated, or so tired. It wasn’t like him to _give up_ as it had.

It was unnatural. It was _wrong._

And it cut Ben’s bile short.

“He was the only family I had left,” Brendol continued numbly. “I didn’t think it would matter. It does though.”

And though Ben violently berated himself for it, though he knew that Hux would never extend the same kindness

“I know,” he whispered.

The satisfaction he had felt before was gone now. It left when Hux stopped snarling, stopped cursing and hitting and being the same Ben has ever known him to be, which was not the man trying not to cry at the death of his father.

It wasn’t fair. This was supposed to be Ben’s victory. He was supposed to enjoy Hux’s pain.

It was distressing how little he actually did.

A kind explanation would be to say that Ben didn’t have the sadistic streak Hux did, but that was simply not true. Ben didn’t know if he had ever been kind, but he certainly wasn’t now. There were many men here he would gleefully watch suffer without a trace of remorse.

But as he laid there on the floor, with Brendol awkwardly cradled in his arms, he realized that Hux wasn’t one of them.

Or rather he could only enjoy so much. He could only prod so far until he went beyond Hux’s carefully built walls, tore down his defenses and destroyed his weapons. And although he thought he would rejoice at such an occasion, relish it with greed, when it finally happened….

When it happened, he _knew_ him. Knew him so thoroughly it was impossible to hate him entirely, or even much at all.

How lonely must it be, to hate the only being in the universe you know so well? The only being who might know you just as thoroughly.

Ben didn’t want to be lonely. And Hux…

Hux had always been there. For screaming and sneering and drunken laughter, sex that was violent and bruising and exactly what they both wanted, the Dejarik game that were solace around a round table.

Throughout all of that, there had been Hux.

And despite how terrible that man was, Ben found some comfort in that.

He put his hand on the back of Hux’s head, and slowly began to caress the soft red hair. The affectionate gesture seemed almost ludicrous when the two of them had come so close to tearing each other apart just moments ago, yet in that moment Ben couldn’t imagine doing anything else. “I'm still happy he’s dead.”

“Kriff you, Ben,” Hux answered tiredly.

There wasn’t any ill intent behind the cursing, so Ben chuckled. He could feel Hux’s reluctant amusement. “I could get out the alcohol, if you want.”

“Are you planning on  _celebrating_?”

Ben shrugged. “Even if I am, you can drink your misery away, and we’ll both end up drunk in the end.”

“Sure,” Hux said quietly. After a pause he added: “In five minutes.”

“Yeah,” Ben agreed quietly.

Neither of them could bring themselves to move though, and so they stayed on the floor for much longer than five minutes. All the while, Ben focused on Hux’s hair between his fingers, on the weight of him against his chest, on his steady if slightly heavy breathing.

He focused on anything but the emotions he felt pouring out of Hux. Amidst the anger and grief and disdain, there was something else. It was small, and gentle, and had no place here. It ought to be destroyed before it could grow.

And as long as Ben ignored it in Hux, then he could pretend it wasn’t within him as well.

 

**(14)**

 

The _Divider_ was usually so quiet despite the many troops that were stationed within. Ben thought it was the sheer size of it that caused sounds to be lost before they managed to reach anyone’s ears.

That was usually. Right now, the flashing red lights and blaring alarm cut through any serenity there might have been. The few seconds of silence between each salve of alarm were filled with the sound of boots hitting the floor, Stormtrooper rushing to position.

This was a crisis, that much he knew, but it was of no comfort at all when he didn’t know _what_ crisis it was. An attack, maybe?

But then Hux senior had found him in the halls, and dread took over.

It didn’t matter that Ben was fifteen now, much stronger than he had been then and much stronger than the Commandant. Those green eyes never failed to make him freeze.

 “Follow me,” the man had growled, grabbing his arm and dragging him along the ship’s corridors. Ben was shoved into a room filled with durasteel crates and shelves. “Stay. Here.”

The door slammed before Ben could answer.

He toyed with the bracelet around his wrist. Maybe with the commotion he could - but no, no, that won’t work.

He took a deep breath, and reached out with the Force to feel what was going on, scan the ship -

And something dark and heavy slammed into his mind, suffocating him and whatever power he might have had. He recognized it, recognized the thick oil that clung to his skin and the cold feeling it left behind. It made him gasp, stumble and catch himself to the wall as he was forced back into his head.

Whatever was going on, the Supreme Leader didn’t want him to know.

He wasn’t sure if that information should fill him with hope or dread.

He had thought he would be made to wait for hours in this room, but after only a few minutes the door burst open and shut just as quickly. Ben startled.

The man that came through wasn’t a member of the First Order, that much was clear. He wasn’t wearing the uniform, or a Stormtrooper’s armor. His clothes were somewhat damaged, brown jacket torn at the sleeve, his tee-shirt with speckles of blood near the collar. He probably had been punched in the face during interrogation.

He looked vaguely familiar though, with his tan skin and short hair. And judging from the way he was staring at Ben, the man recognized him as well.

“Kriff!” he whispered, eyes wide as he took him in. “Ben…? Ben Solo...?”

Ben gulped. “I… Yes, I…”

“Oh, thank the Maker!” The man rushed forward then, taking him in his arms before he could react. Ben had the knee-jerk impulse to shove him away with the Force, managed to overcome it, and then didn’t know what to do.

Being hugged had become a foreign sensation after all these years. “We couldn’t find you,” the man half-explained, half-babbled. “The Order kept your location hidden. I was just looking for a place to hide. I had no idea that…” He pulled away sharply then. “Never mind. Let’s go.”

Before Ben could even react, the man gripped his wrist and pulled him into the hall, running towards the ship hangar. For a moment, Ben allowed himself to be pulled, shock rendering completely pliant.

Then reality crashed onto him, and he started pulling his hand away.

“Stop, stop!” he cried out, and when the man ignored him still, he braced himself and yanked out of his hold.

The look he received was one of pure incomprehension. Good, that makes two of them. “Who are you?!”

The man’s expression turned apologetic, though lost none of its urgency. “Sorry, I should have known,” he said. “I’m Kes Dameron. I’m with the Resistance.”

Ben let out a breath.

“You’re Poe’s dad.”

Despite the circumstances, the man smiled. “You remember him? That’s… that’s good.” He looked around then. “Sorry, kid, can’t afford to talk right now. We need to go.”

Ben knew it was true. Although they were in a relatively desert area of the ship, used only for officers’ deliberations, with the alarm blaring there was bound to be someone coming.

That didn’t stop his blood from turning cold at the thought. “Go…. I can’t, I…” He thrust his wrists forward. The manacles gleamed, untarnished despite all the hours Ben spent toying with them. “My wrist! There’s something on my wrist!”

“What…” Kes started, then his eyes narrowed. “Kriff.”

He looked around, but there were no more rooms to hide in. He cursed, and dragged the two of them in the nearest alcove, as far away from view as possible. “You have any idea how to get this off?”

Ben shook his head. “I tried taking it off once, but he… Snoke, he knew somehow and he… he stopped me.”

He still thought about it, at times. How he’d been so sure he could succeed, so confident in his abilities.

 _The Force shall set me free,_ he had thought giddily, laughing at his own joke, so pleased with himself as he felt the metal slowly give into his powers.

And then he stopped. No matter how much he wanted to go on, he couldn’t, because there was something so heavy weighing down on him. So heavy and so big he was being crushed. _None of that, my apprentice,_ in his mind and he couldn’t fight back. He couldn’t even move, until the pressure was gone and he realized he had fallen to his knees.

He stayed on the floor for a long time after that.

“Kriff,” Kes cursed, digging through the pocket of his jackets. He pulled out a vibroblade, a very big one. “I don’t know if this will take care of it, but it has military levels of power so…”

“No!”

Ben took a step back, bringing his wrist to his chest. Kes looked at him as soothingly as possible, but there was still hints of frustration creeping in.

Ben didn’t care.

“Ben, this might work,” Kes said reasonably. “If Snoke could stop us right now, he would have done so already. If we do this quickly enough, then maybe...”

“No, no you can’t, he’ll know!” Ben shook his head wildly, both to deny and to chase away the memories creeping in. “As soon as you touch them he’ll know, and… You can’t!”

Kes let out a breath. His eyes kept darting from side to side, his tone grew more urgent. “Look, kid, we don’t have enough time. I know this is scary, but you have to trust me.”

“No, no you don’t understand! You don’t have…” Ben racked his brain for an answer, and blurted out the first one that came to mind. “My uncle. My uncle will know. You can come back, and he’ll be able to stop him…”

That will work, he thought. He waited five years, he can wait longer. He’ll wait as long as he needs to. Whatever escape he attempts _cannot_ fail, because otherwise the Snoke… and the Commandant will know as well.

He needs a Force user, needs someone powerful enough to fight them all off. Kes can go, and come after him, and this time he’ll be prepared.

His enthusiasm waned when looked at Kes, saw his stricken expression that slowly shifted into sorrow. “I’m sorry, Ben,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry I can’t do this in a better way, but getting Luke isn’t an option here.”

Ben gulped. “Why not?”

“Because he’s gone! He’s gone, and we can’t find him.” His expression turned hard. “So we’re going to have to do this without him!”

“No, no don’t!” Ben protested when Kes reached for his arm again. “What do you mean he’s gone?!”

“He left. After the massacre, he left and we couldn’t….”

“...Massacre…?”

The Galaxy stilled.

“You didn’t…. You don’t know?”

Kes’ voice was trembling.

Ben couldn’t speak at all.

“Kriff, I… I’m sorry, kid. I’m so sorry all of this happened, I’m sorry you had to find out this way. The... the padawan, they….” Kes closed his eyes, grit his teeth. When he opened them again, his voice had taken a forced calm. “About six months ago, the First Order found Luke’s academy and… and there weren’t any survivors.”

Oh.

“Luke left afterwards. No one knows where he went, and it’s hard to find him while still fighting…”

Kes was still talking. Ben wasn’t listening.

Dead?

All of them?

Ben didn’t know any of them, not really, because he had spent most of his days at the base. But sometimes padawans would spend a day or two there before going to his uncle’s academy. Ben was too young to leave too, but he would look at them from afar.

Glad that _his_ parents didn’t send him away. Knowing they might eventually.

But there had been this one Mirialan girl, who had been three years older than him, and nice. She spotted him watching her, and went to talk to him. She left three days later, and Ben thought that if ever his parents sent him away then at least she would be there too and it wouldn’t be as bad.

She’s dead now.

He didn't think he ever learned her name.

No.

No, that couldn’t be right, Ben would have known that. Would have felt it, somehow. This isn’t... so many Force sensitives dying, he couldn’t have _missed_ it. How could he…

Snoke.

It had to be him.

“Ben?”

He blinked. Kes’ hands were on his shoulders, the man kept saying his name over and over again.

“This isn’t the time, Ben! We need to get moving.”

“I…”

“We’ve already been too long in one place; we need to -”

And then Kes cried out, chocked, and fell forward. Ben tried to catch him, but he was too heavy; instead, Kes slumped against him, and crumpled to the ground, lying on his stomach.

There was a burn mark at the base of his skull. Small, round.

A blaster wound.

Two more beams arrived then, each hitting Kes’ sides, making the body jerk from the impact.

Safety shots. Pointless shots.

Kes was already dead.

Hux huffed as he lowered his blaster.

“Honestly, Solo, if you are going to try to escape, at least keep on moving,” he said, stepping forward and nudging the body with his foot. “Though at this point, I suggest you and I omit this little attempt of yours altogether. Unless you have grown fond of punishment.”

Ben ignored the barb. His mind was stuck on Kes’ lasts words, replaying them over and over again, trying to make them make sense.

“Did you know?” he asked. He felt as if he were a Galaxy away from his own body. “The padawans… did you know?”

Hux gave him a look full of contempt. “Such information is only for members of the First Order.”

So yes.

Ben closed his eyes, and released one slow, shaky breath.

They were dead. The padawans. Kes. They died, and if he had escaped sooner, if he had let Kes near his wrists, if he –

But it was too late now.

He had a chance, and didn’t take it. He would be a fool if he thought another one would come along.

“Oh, good,” Hux said dispassionately. “Sanitation arrived.”

 

 

**(12)**

 

Ben arrived in Hux’s room to find him polishing his blaster.

Hux had had it for some time now, yet no one would believe it from the look of it. He took such careful care of it, it could easily be mistaken as brand new.

The redhead looked up when he heard Ben enter, smiled, and gestured towards the jar of polish. “Do you want some?”

Ben frowned. “I don’t have a blaster.”

“Indeed not,” Hux agreed pleasantly. “But those shackles of yours could use a shine.”

Ben felt himself redden. “Kriff you,” he growled, and stormed out.

Hux’s self-satisfied chuckle followed him out.

 

 

**(28)**

It was purely by chance that the two of them met that night.

Hux had been up late, filling in reports, looking over the budget and making sure once again that Starkiller was still ready to be deployed should Snoke finally give the order. It was tedious work, which is why he insisted on getting it down as soon as possible. Thus, he did it all in one sitting rather than over the span of one week, like he knew other officers did. The ones that hadn’t made General.

The ones that will never become Emperor.

By the time it had all been finished, it had been 0100 hour, long past recommended curfew for officers. If Phasma knew, she would have his hide, and that is why he chose to take the long way towards his quarters rather than cut through the main deck where he knew she was stationed.

The administrative wings were deserted as he made his way through them. They were all deserted, and quiet. Because of that, even tired as he was he still picked up on a small sound coming from a corridor on his left.

He tensed. Slowly, he shifted on his feet, facing the darkened hallway. His hand reached inside of his vest for his blaster, and –

“Don’t bother, Hux,” Kylo’s hoarse voice ordered. “It’s me.”

Hux sighed heavily, both in relief and exasperation, and relaxed his posture.

Honestly, Ben should know better than to sneak around the base at night. Most of the officers were still nervous around him – rightfully so, some may argue, but they never saw just how big an electric shock those shackled could give – and those officers would be quick to jump to conclusions.

He was about to say as much when Kylo stepped under a dim neon light, briefly illuminating his black robes. It was enough for Hux to spot the dark stain along the Force user’s flank. It looked wet, and dripping, and it took Hux all of two seconds to figure out just what it was.

“What the hell is that?!” he hissed, stepping forwards to take a better look at the bleeding wound.

Ben glared at him weakly, lips pulling into a half-hearted sneer. “Take a guess.”

Hux grit his teeth. “And why aren’t you headed to the medbay?”

“I don’t need it,” the Force user replied, trying to move away.

Hux grabbed onto his arm. “You’re bleeding, Ben.”

Ben weakly tugged at his arm. He sounded more tired than irritated. “It’s nothing.”

Hux looked at that pale face, shining slightly from sweat, at the sunken eyes and at the tremble that came with Ben clenching his jaw to tight.

He let out a heavy breath, berated himself for the decision he just made, and tightened his grip on Ben’s arm. “Come on.”

Without another word, he dragged Ben down the corridors. Mercifully, the Force user said nothing, not even when Hux shoved him into his quarters and instructed him to take off his shirt. Hux went into his bathroom, rummaging for the first-aid kit he kept there in case of an emergency.

It was the first time he actually used it. Of course it would be on Ben.

When he stepped back into his room, Ben was sitting on the bed, staring at the wall. He didn’t react when Hux kneeled at his side, evaluating the nasty cut on Ben’s side. It wasn’t deep, but it was messy, the initial wound having obviously been exacerbated by a complete lack of care.

“You could at least have put bacta on them,” the redhead mumbled as he got to work.

For a long while, the room was silent save for Ben’s heavy breathing and occasional hisses. Hux lost himself in the process of cleaning the wound, easily done with bacta but still hypnotic in how the gelatinous substance was spread, rubbed and scrapped off.

Hux had touched Ben’s skin thousands of time now, but this was still new. Beneath his hands, he could feel every heavy breath, could feel the heat coming off the injured area.

He had probably clawed at this place before. Ben had probably done the same to him.

It was a marvel, really, that he would let Hux touch him at all, would trust him as he was now.

Ben trusted him, despite everything. What an idiot.

Yet Hux was so very glad he did.

 “Does it hurt?” he asked when his work was almost done.

“No.”

“Liar.”

Ben laughed bitterly. “You should see the other guys.”

“There wasn’t supposed to be others,” Hux said, frowning. “This wasn’t an offensive strike, and you went without backup.”

The First Order very rarely gave Ben any solo missions, as a precaution more than anything else. It appeased the twitchier officers, and the smooth running that came with their peace of mind was more than worth the small loss in efficiency that came with chaperoning the Knight on his every outing.

Hux knew from Ben himself just how easily the Supreme Leader could slip into his apprentice’s mind and put a halt to any misguided act. That’s why he had little qualm sending Ben out on his own when Snoke himself requested it, as it had been the case here.

“The Supreme Leader said it was training,” he added, knowing very easily that he could have been lied to. Snoke was not transparent when it came to his dealings with Ben, and Ben rarely volunteered any information.

For all he knew, Ben had actually found Skywalker, and had just come back from killing him. (He doubted it; Ben would have been much more hysterical if it had been the case.)

Ben laughed then, a short, ugly laugh, dripping with disdain directed both towards himself and towards his master. “It was part of my training, in a way. I landed on the planet, and I heard his voice in my head – he is almost always in my head, when I’m away.” He closed his eyes and bit his lips. “Or even when I’m on the _Finalizer_. He only leaves me alone when I’m with high ranking officers.”

Opening his eyes again, he looked at Hux.  His expression was oddly calm when he next spoke. “It really means only when I’m with you, in the end.”

Hux looked away, pretending to focus on the wound. “Ben…”

Ben ignored him. “He told me to go through the forest,” he said again, voice hollow, “so I did. There was a Resistance camp there.” He swallowed. “I don’t think they recognized me. Or maybe they did. But they started shooting, and I fought back, and…”

He was shacking now, violently. Hux had to pull his hands away from Ben’s flank, else he tear the wound open by accident.

He doubted Ben would have noticed.

I destroyed them,” the young boy whispered. He spoke the words in shock, in disbelief, in guilt obviously. Most of all though, he just sounded resigned. “All of them. I couldn’t _not_ , I…” His eyes were unseeing now, focused on some memory or whatever Force-kriffed sense Hux wasn’t privy too. “The Dark Side is so strong _. I_ was so strong.”

Hux took in the tale, cursing Ben for his idiotic sentimentality. Cursing himself for indulging it.

Solo was too soft. No matter how much bravado or how much anger he cloaked himself in, he still couldn’t see beyond his self-obsession with his own identity and righteousness.

“Is not treating your wounds some sort of punishment? You let yourself be in pain, and thus it absolves you of whatever crime you think you committed?”

“I killed them, Hux,” is the non-answer he gets, which is really all he needs to know.

Kriffing idiot.

“They would have killed you. They are Resistance. They are the enemy.”

Ben doesn’t answer this time. He looked away, jaw clenched, eyes downcast.

There was a time when Ben would have vehemently denied Hux’s words, would have spit and trashed and raged at the mere suggestion. That he hadn’t now was something, Hux supposed.

However, this tepid optimism was largely overshadowed by angry exasperation. Because lack of denial was not the same as ascent, and Hux had had more than enough of Ben’s childishness.

They ought to have put him in the Stormtrooper program. That would have gotten rid of Ben’s stupid sentimentality, of his blind loyalty to a Regime he has never truly lived under. The First Order would have gained a much more reliable asset, and Hux wouldn’t have had to deal with this perpetual rejection from a spoiled brat.

(With that monologue came the insidious thought that a Ben put through the Program wouldn’t have been Ben at all, that he wouldn’t be the exasperating yet compelling mess that Hux has grown surprisingly fond of. A Ben put through the program would never rise to the Hux’s baits, would be demure and subordinate and all around _tame._ Hux refused to acknowledge that thought or the tightening in his chest that came with it.)

Hux raged, in a much more controlled and internalized manner than Ben ever did. Yet even as he did, he knew he shouldn’t have expected anything different.

Of course Republic scum wouldn’t submit to order. Of course Ben Solo would stubbornly cling to that decrepit institution. He had beneficiated from the best the First Order could give, had seen firsthand how stable the worlds under its control became. And yet he still wanted to call himself of the Resistance, still clung to the idea that the First Order was his enemy. And why?

Because he got scared when he was ten. Because his master was mean to him. Because mommy dearest, unseen for nearly twenty years, would disapprove.

Kriffing pathetic. Kriffing annoying.

His life would be much improved without the nagging possibility that he would have to kill Ben one day.

He said none of this to Ben, of course, especially not that last part. He didn’t sneer at Ben, didn’t berate him for his tears or his misplaced sentimentality. Mainly because he was too tired to deal with the inevitable argument that would follow.

And maybe, just maybe, there was a very small part of him that just didn’t want to hurt Ben anymore tonight.

“Lie down,” he ordered in a rush, getting up quickly to move onto the bed. He hurriedly took off his jacket and shoes, leaving the rest of his uniform on. He’ll change tomorrow.

Ben looked at him hesitatingly. “I should get back to my quarters,” he protested, making a move to stand up.

“No you shouldn’t.” Hux’s hand came to rest on his shoulder, forcefully tugging him back to the bed. “Lie down.”

Ben complied easily after that, his initial reluctance obviously more for show than anything else. After a few moments of awkward shuffling, he laid himself onto the shits, body still stiff. He was sinking into the mattress, yet somehow still looked ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.

Without thinking, Hux let himself drop just behind him, wrapped his arm around his chest and pulled him tight against him. Ben stiffened even more – Hux hadn’t thought it possible – but after a few uneventful moments he slowly relaxed, letting his back press against Hux’s chest.

“What are you doing?” he still asked, voice dropping to a whisper.

Excellent question. “Keeping you from brooding,” Hux answered, thinking on his feet. “You break precious machinery when you brood.”

“And the arms?”

“Keeping you from escaping,” he lied. “I’m being thorough.”

Ben didn’t say anything more, and Hux basked in the silence. His nose was buried into Ben’s hair, filling with the scent of sweat every time he inhaled. He didn’t mind.

Ben’s body was much too warm against his. He didn’t mind either.

He stayed that way for a long time, unable to go to sleep but unwilling to do anything else but drift

His thoughts blurred with every breath. Sharpness and rigidity gave way to vague echoes of black hair in a dark room, a heart beating beneath his palm, Ben breathing ever so slightly out of sync with him. Wisps of perception and feeling drifting in and out of his head, and he made no effort to hold onto them. The only thing truly tangible in the world was the body pressed against his own.

Dimly, he recognized what was happening by the absence of all he had grown used to. There was no alarm, no alertness to his surroundings. No surveilling for an enemy, no mulling over reports and plans and budgets, making sure everything is controlled and everything is as it should be. No deep anxiety that it will all come crumbling down, his very foundation disappearing from beneath his feet, leaving him as exposed as that scrawny twelve-year-old Cadet that had such difficulty finding sleep.

He is, though he is at a loathe to say it, at peace. There is no other word for it, and everything from thinking it to experiencing it is so very alien, and disturbingly pleasant.

He wanted to say that he was simply tired. That a late night topped off with an unpleasant surprised had short-circuited his brain, that it was all physiological. But it was a difficult thing to convince himself of when thoughts of Ben filled his mind, how his warmth was turning out to be pleasant, how none would dare sneak up on him if Ben was here. How he had never curled up against someone in bed, not for warmth, certainly not after sex, and how it probably wouldn’t feel so nice if it wasn’t Ben who was with him.

How Ben was still, inexplicably, his favorite.

“Thank you,” Ben breathed out, his large hand coming to rest over Hux’s own, clutching it tight against his chest. Hux didn’t know if the words were in response to his latest thought, for what he did that night, or for another reason he couldn’t think of.

All he knew was that he had to bite his tongue to keep from saying them in return.

 

**(29)**

Hux didn’t remember falling asleep. When he woke up, he was still curled around Ben, only the Force user had shifted in his sleep and was now facing him.

He looked oddly peaceful when he was sleeping, Hux noted. Well, it was really only odd because it was so uncommon. Even in his most unguarded moments, there was always an underlying tension to him. It was gone now though, and Hux could only stare, fascinated.

Ben opened his eyes, which were still blurry from sleep before they focused on Hux. For a moment, Hux thought the defensiveness would reassert itself, and stupidly held his breath.

But Ben just smiled. It was a small, tired thing, the previous night’s events still taking their toll on him. Nothing had been fixed, and nothing will get better.

And yet, Ben was smiling. At Brendol. Just for Brendol.

He could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks, feel his heartbeat pick up, so loud that surely the entire _Finalizer_ should be able to hear it.

Ben was smiling, and Hux didn’t… he…

He got up in a hurry, lunging for his cupboard where he kept his uniforms. He heard Ben sit up, obviously confused at Hux’s behavior, but Hux resolutely didn’t look back.

It was hard to keep up his mental defense, with Ben so close and staring at him, with his own mind refusing to display the same sharpness and certitude it usually possessed. But still he managed, taking off his dirty clothes, putting on new ones, all with his eyes on the wall and his back to Ben, resolutely trying to school his expression and calm himself.

When he was done, when his collar was straight and his jacket fully buttoned, he took a deep breath. Turned.

Tried to glare.

“In light of your spectacularly high kill count during yesterday’s mission,” he said with all the coldness and viciousness he could muster, “I fully expect you to deliver the same level of results from now on, Lord Ren.”

Ben physically recoiled, looking at Hux in devastated shock.

Hux felt his own mask crumbling. He turned on his heels and left the room, trying to look as if he were marching to duty and not running away from what happened last night, from the look on Ben’s face.

It’s Ben’s fault anyway, for trusting Hux.

They’re not on the same side of this war, and Hux refuses to compromise for Ben kriffing Solo.

 

**(36)**

 

Ben didn’t know why the Finalizer had such large windows, but he was glad it did. It made it easy to get lost in space whenever he stared out of them.

There were thousands of systems out there. So many he has never been to. Other he had visited, in another lifetime, but those memories were almost a blur now.

It was for the best, really. He could never go back, and to cling to such trivial things would only cause him pain. Pointless, especially when what truly mattered refused to let him go, no matter how much in his weaker moments he wished it did.

He put his hand on the transparisteel, and closed his eyes.

There were thousands of systems out there, and in one of them was his mother, whom he had cried out for in his early years, before that longing had become a muted ache. Permanent, but increasingly easier to forget, which in turn was its own sort of pain.

There were thousands of systems out there, and in one of them was his uncle, who was almost a stranger by now. Barely there when he was a toddler, the cause of his woes when he was ten. His target now. Sometimes, a cynical part of him whispered that Luke Skywalker should be glad to die for the Galaxy.

There were thousands of systems out there, and how many truly cared who governed them? They’ve lived through the Republic, the Empire, and back again, and if either were truly too awful to bear, then surely the Resistance would have more members? Surely the First Order would have more volunteers?

If it all truly mattered, then Ben wouldn’t be able to stay here and watch the stars. He wouldn’t have been able to live as he had, trapped in a stalemate for so long.

It didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter, and that’s why it would all be worth it.

He opened his eyes again.

And immediately regretted it.

He didn’t know what came first: the red beams, or the screams.

Maybe both.

The beams he could manage, because all though he knew exactly what it meant, a part of him couldn’t even process it.

The screams though…

They didn’t even need processing, or comprehending, because they weren’t screams at all. They were lights being extinguished by the million, emptiness spreading like a plague in the Force. The Nothing, so loud, so anguished, a thousand hands tearing at his mind and ripping him apart.

He stumbled forward, holding himself to the transparisteel to keep his knees from buckling.

He was crying, and there were so many soldiers surrounding him. He didn’t care, could barely even bring himself to notice them above the roar of a dying system.

And above all that, one mantra, over and over again.

_It will all be worth it._

_It will all be worth it._

_It will all be worth it._

Not anymore.

Because the hundreds of death he caused did nothing to prevent the billions of more.

It didn’t matter, he thought hysterically.

What he did didn’t matter. Because they all died anyway.

The consoles around him shattered, his lightsaber was out before he could even think. A pair of Stormtroopers, who had come to approach him, immediately jump back. The officers still in the room quickly leave.

Good.

Because amidst all the destruction, as he breaks and cleaves and tears, there is a scream building up inside him. And if it goes past his teeth he won’t be able to stop.

A scream of horror. Of despair. Of rage.

Snoke may have authorized the use of Starkiller, but he didn’t give the order.

Who gave the order? Who caused all this?

_Hux._

And Ben, such a fool, such a child, couldn’t crush his anguish and betrayal towards a man who had never deserved his trust. Had never deserved the far more fragile, broken thing that Ben hadn’t even realized he had given him as well.

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

**(9)**

 

It was when he turned twelve that Ben learned that he had nothing left in the world.

Because he had been doing so well, Snoke said, excelling at the physical drills. At wielding the Force. Charging at his master over and over again, trying to _hurt_ him, failing miserably, and getting back up.

 _Good_ , Snoke would praise, _channel your hate, it will make you strong._

Ben tried, oh how he tried, but Snoke was too big, too powerful, and he was only twelve and he knew nothing. So of course he would fail, and fall to the ground, for good this time. And he would cry, because it _hurt_ , and he was so _tired_ , and he laid there shivering and feeling so very wrong.

And Snoke would come, would crouch next to him and card his fingers through Ben’s hair as he whispered soothing words.

He hated it. He hated himself, because he would lean into the touch. 

And because he was doing so well, was such a _good boy_ , he was allowed a birthday present.

It was uncomfortable, projecting himself into the Galaxy with the Force, mainly because it was Snoke who was pushing him out of his body. Forcing his spirit into another plane, and once there, Ben could feel _everything_.

For a moment, it was blissful, because he could feel his mother, his uncle, even his father, little lights glowing in his mind. In that moment, they didn’t feel so far away.

The next moment, bliss turned to horror. Because he could feel everything, so he felt the black, the oily, the smoke between him and them. The veil that kept him from ever touching them. Ever reaching them.

It was the Dark, and it was everywhere. Worst of all, it was in _him._ It filled him, and he knew then that they probably would never want to reach him at all. Because there was too much Dark in him, and it felt good at time and he couldn’t be a jedi now!

At twelve years old, Ben learned that he had nothing left in the world.

Alone, but…

Outside of his body, he felt someone else. Someone on the same side as the veil, who Ben knew, and… and…

He didn’t necessarily like Hux, not at all, but he was _someone._ Who wasn’t as overwhelming as Snoke. Wasn’t as frightening as the commandant.

Who Ben could overpower, even though he knew better. Who Ben could talk to, and feel less lonely.

Amidst the dark nothing that threatened to suffocate Ben, Hux was no Light but he still shined.

Ben clutched him close, dangerously close to his heart, and almost despite himself the presence that was Hux kept the Darkness at bay.

 

 

**(8)**

 

True danger at the Academy didn’t come from the drills.

They were demanding, of course, especially in the winter, where the cadets were made to trek for miles in the snow, in cold water. They had best keep up, lest they be left behind to rely on their own abilities to bring them home. A test of endurance and of resilience, to be certain.

But true resilience, true endurance came at night, when the cadets were left to themselves and baser nature came through. Lock dozens of beasts in one room, and eventually they will turn on each other.

And beasts they were, at their core, all hungering for a life they never knew, but that had been fed to them by bitter parents and fervent instructors. And although they were taught to put themselves in service of the group, of the cause, they knew they wouldn’t serve equally.

And those closer to the top would have the privilege to be served in turn.

Hux was the son of an officer, but that meant little here. He was fit, but not as strong as all those cadets older than him. So to endure the assault from all sides, he had to be cleverer. More cunning. Forge alliances and break them appropriately.

Manipulation, provocation, threats and the occasional violence, those all became Hux’s greatest tools. It’s how he survived, how he remained in control despite all the dangerous beasts surrounding him. There was no greater satisfaction than watching those stronger boys destroy each other, like two enemy fleets annihilating each other through a third’s machinations.

It was brilliant. It wasn’t always enough.

So many who would rip him apart if they had a chance. He could never lower his guard.

Curled into his cot, eyes closed but still alert, he clenched the blanket in his fists, and he endured. This was but one night. There were but a few years more. And soon he would move on to brighter, better things, will rise above all of them.

Sooner still, he will return to his father’s ship, and there will be peace.

There will be Ben, who was just as likely to curse at him as he was to smile. Ben, who despite all his hate and all his rage would never attack him.

Ben was safe, was constant. His bile was reassuring. His smiles were somehow better.

And so Hux would lay awake at night, and think of Ben.

 

 

**(37)**

 

He hadn’t realized where his feet were leading him until he was halfway there. And when he did he started running.

Stormtroopers jumped out of his way, as did the lower officers that weren’t hiding away in the control rooms. A few cursed, some turned to look at him with a mix of confusion and scorn.

Ben didn’t care.

His entire mind was focused on finding _him_.

He knew. He must have known. One does not simply fire that weapon on a _whim_. He knew, and he didn’t tell Ben.

Ben laughed bitterly at that thought, still running. Tears sting his eyes.

Of course he didn’t tell Ben, because he wanted it, and didn’t care at all, and in all these years why did Ben ever _think that -_

He arrived in front of the door, punches in the code so roughly he nearly broke the control pads. Hux would be angry if he knew. Because Hux did care about kriffing hardware and not about five planets and billions of people.

Hux was capable of firing that weapon and then go back to his quarters to drink brandy.

He even took out a crystal glass.

Ben watched stunned as Hux looked up and sighed, put the glass down and got up with a role of his eyes. “I know what you are going to -”

Ben slammed him into the wall. Hard.

Hux cursed as he fell to the floor. He rolled onto his side to push himself up, but Ben didn’t let him. The Force pushed the General back down, on his back, and in a second Ben was upon him.

This time, he didn’t let Hux roll them over.

Part of him wanted to reach out into Hux’s mind - no, he wanted to tear through it, turn it upside down. Rip, and scratch and tear. He wanted Hux to hurt.

But that required control, and living _that_ all over again. Ben didn’t have the first right now, certainly didn’t want the other. But he still wanted Hux to hurt, wanted to crush him, and the Force answered to that.

Pressing down and down onto the man beneath him, like a metal plate. White skin turned whiter still when blood vessels were cut off. His left wrist turned purple where a vein burst.

Hux winced at the pressure. “Really, Ben, if that’s what you were in the mood for -”

Ben punched him.

He felt skin break under his fists.

Hux’s head snapped to the side, and when he looked back at Ben his lips were parted open, the bottom one split right in the center.

Ben hit him again.

And again.

And howled because his punches weren’t landing right. Hux kept rolling with them, his head moving with Ben’s fists.

And then he would look back, bruised and bloody. Not enough.

“You killed them.” It was hard to talk. All his rage was caught in his throat, making his voice shaky and hoarse. 

Or maybe it was the crying. Or the screaming. Did he scream?

Somewhere along the lines, he stopped hitting Hux. He didn’t do a very good job at it anyway: apart from a bruised cheek and a split lip, Hux looked fine. Face flushed, lips parted, eyes wide.

He didn’t even look angry. Or smug. Or any other emotion Ben could name or recognize.

That was the worst part.

The look in Hux’s eyes couldn’t be described as pity, or regret, or any softer feeling that might have been in a kinder man. It would have been longing, maybe, if it weren’t for the ever present disdain for all that Ben represented.

Under that look, Ben felt vulnerable, wanted, worthless and precious, powerful and lacking. He didn’t know how many of those emotions came from him, how many were feedback from Hux.. The cocktail was intoxicating, was paralytic, and though the Galaxy was still screaming around him Ben couldn’t look away from Hux’s face, away from the bloody lips parted open almost like a prayer, away from the green eyes which had never looked softer.

Those same eyes that were probably cold and calculating when they watched five planets burn.

“You killed them,” Ben repeated, more numbly this time. “You fired Starkiller.”

His own voice felt like it was coming from miles away, through water and fog. Completely overwhelmed by the static white noise of realization, of consequences finally dawning at him.

He felt as if he were standing on a wire over an abyss, in the moment before he falls. Where everything is static, and it would almost feel like flying if he wasn’t about to be completely shattered.

Hux leaned up, wiping away the blood at the corner of his mouth. His face was in the same impassive mask that was his default, only this time the usual white veil was stained red and purple. It made his green eyes stand out less. It made it hard to focus on his face at all.

In that moment Hux was nothing but the solid and steady body beneath him, the gloved hand that came to cup his cheek and the voice that spoke so plainly, so simply, it broke Ben more than any mockery ever could.

“Yes.”

And Ben collapsed.

He shouldn’t have, really, especially not if it means landing straight into Hux’s arms. He couldn’t help it though, couldn’t think of anything outside of that one word and all that it implied.

 _One life for billions of others,_ he had thought as he cut down San Tekka.

 _A small town for five planets,_ he had reasoned when his search led him there.

_It’s the only way._

But that hadn’t been any good at all, in the end. Because Snoke had grown impatient, because Ben wasn’t fast enough. Because everyone kept fighting him, on both sides, and he cared too much. Not enough.

He was so, so tired.

“I… So many. So many dead by my hands…” he hiccupped, shivering as Hux stroked his back. He hated that he was crying, hated that he was leaning into the touch. Hated that his hate didn’t stop him from doing it. “Time and time again, and still I... I was doing it to save them! I was going to…”

His fists tightened around Hux’s vest. He hadn’t even realised he had latched onto it. “It was supposed to be worth it.”

Hux’s hand stroked the back of his head. “It will be worth it,” he said almost gently. “We are bringing order to the Galaxy.”

Ben eyes flashed open. He roughly pulled himself back, glaring at Hux with a clenched jaw.

“Don’t,” he warned. “Don’t start.”

He won’t do this. He won’t listen to Hux talking about “Order” and “for the Galaxy.”

About a “We”.

He won’t. He can’t.

And Hux did shut up, which only enraged Ben more because since when did Hux give a _pfassk_ about what Ben wanted? He never has in twenty years, and never once gave in, so much so that the only moments of peace Ben ever had with him was when their desires happened to align.

Ben craved those moments, and despised them.

Hux is a hateful, hateful man, so why can’t he just let Ben hate him?

“Don’t touch me!” he snapped when Hux’s hand came to stroke his cheek.

Hux only half-complied: he lowered his hand, but instead of placing it back at his side he reached out to take Ben’s wrist instead. He pulled down the sleeve of his robe, just enough to reveal the metal bracelet that was still there after all this time.

Ben didn’t pull away. Somehow, that felt more like defeat than standing by his own words.

Hux’s finger came to brush over his inner arm, just below the shackle, following the trail of Ben’s veins. His nail was filled down as regulation dictated, but still felt so very sharp against such thin skin.

Hux hummed thoughtfully. “How long has it been since you last tried removing this?”

Ben’s breath hitched. And then didn’t pick up again.

He was pretty sure that if he started screaming, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

Hux ignored him, ignored how Ben’s hand, which had come to rest on other arm, was squeezing so tightly he might cut off the blood supply. Instead, he brought Ben’s wrist up to his eyes, looking at it as if it were a curious bauble. “Do you think Snoke could stop you?” he asked, lips pulling into a faint smile. “Even now?”

He pulled the wrist even closer, ghosting his lips right over Ben’s skin.

His breath tickled. Of all things.

Ben wished it would burn him instead.

“I don’t think he could.” Hux looked at him, eyes half-lidded, mouth half-smirking. “I don’t think anyone could, if you wanted.”

“How unexpected, _General._ ” Ben forced himself to add bite to his words, to use the title instead of the name. It was a meager defense, but it was all he had left. “This newfound admiration of yours.”

Hux chuckled, much more softly and gently than he ever has before. “I don’t admire your abilities. I admire what you can do with them.”

And Ben had no more words. He was shaking now, so pathetic, and the only steady part of his was currently held in Hux’s deceptively soft hands and cruelly gentle grip.

He wanted Hux to squeeze too hard. To bite. To break this tension by breaking skin, because that seemed the safest way out.

But Hux never gave a pfassk what Ben wanted, and so instead he kissed the inside of his wrist. A gentle touch, barely there, but when he pulled away Ben still felt the outline of his lips, like a brand. Ben was marked.

But Hux’s face was still bruised and bloodied, and his own wrist still held the bruise Ben had given him. Hux was marked as well.

“You killed them all,” Ben whispered again. His voice was dull; the words were lifeless.

“Yes,” Hux whispered back. He let go of Ben’s wrist, and once again went to cup Ben’s cheek.

This time, Ben didn’t stop him.

“I killed so many,” he continued, face tensing with every word. A tear fell from the corner of his eyes; he didn’t have the will to stop it. “Or others did. And I didn’t stop them.”

He could have tried harder, could have fought harder along the way. He never did, never even tried. Snoke chose his apprentice so well.

He thought of FN-2187, who ran away at the first opportunity he had, freed a Resistance pilot along the way. Who in but a few hours has done more to fight the First Order than Ben ever did.

Ben Solo isn’t a part of the Resistance. He never has been.

He felt a thumb brush against his cheek. It took him a moment to realize it was Hux, wiping his tear away.

Ben’s hand around Hux’s arm tightened even more.

“You are horrible,” he said. Horrible didn’t even begin to cover the extent of this man’s crime. He wasn’t even sure what word did.

Hux smiled. It made the cut on his lip widen.

Ben felt himself crumble.

“Please don’t die,” he choked out, and closed his eyes.

He didn’t want to see Hux’s reaction. Didn’t want to face the world.

So when he felt cool lips against his, he had no defenses left.

He pulled Hux close, until their chests were pressed together, and strong arms came to wrap around him. His ran his fingers through red hair, shivered at the touch of leather gloves. The uniform was sharp and smooth under his fingers, though not as much as skin and cheekbones.

Hux rolled them over, one arm still lifting the small of Ben’s back, the other going to tangle into black hair.

And Ben let himself drown in all that was familiar.

 

 

**(16)**

 

Two days after their last Dejarik game, after Kes Dameron, Ben and Hux were aboard a shuttle leading to the newly constructed _Finalizer._ It was move that had been planned for a long time, but after what happened with Kes Dameron on the _Divider,_ it became paramount.

Ben was hunched in his seat, whereas Hux was sitting straight, looking over something in his holopad.

“Were you there, when… when they were all killed?”

From the corner of his eye, Ben could see Hux’s fingers still. The redhead glanced to the side. “Does it matter?”

Ben honestly pondered the question.

“Not really,” he murmured finally.

Satisfied, Hux went back to his holopad.

 

 

**(39)**

 

Ben didn’t know how long they had been staying like this, lying on the floor with Brendol’s arms wrapped around him. He didn’t know, and he didn’t care.

He felt so very drained, like dead weight. Any moment now, he would begin sinking into the ground, deeper and deeper until he disappeared. Or at least he would, if it weren’t for the hard chest behind him, the steady heartbeat that wasn’t quite in sync with his own and the strange strength he drew from both.

“We really ought to get up,” Bren murmured from behind him, stirring slightly as he prepared to move.

Ben didn’t even twitch. “You do. I have no duty here.”

He could feel Bren roll his eyes from behind him. “Don’t go wallowing into depression, Ben.” He stood up and made his way towards his closet to pick out the clothing that made his standard uniform. “I much prefer you angry, if anything.”

Ben grunted from his position on the floor. “Yet you always complain when I destroy consoles.”

“I see no reason why you should take out your frustrations on innocent machinery.”

Ben stilled. Slowly, he raised himself to a sitting position, turning his head towards Hux. His expression was absolutely blank.

“Nothing is innocent here.”

Hux stared back.

“Most likely not.” He said finally. He finished getting ready in silence, and gestured towards the door. “Are you going to get dressed, or am I going to have to leave you behind?”

“I will join you on the bridge,” Ben answered quietly. “I need to get my mask.”

The words were filled with defeat. He thought Hux might gloat.

Instead, the General only pinches his lips, and stares at Ben some more. His gaze hardens.

“Don’t,” he said in a clipped tone. “It looks ridiculous.”

With that he swept out of the room.

 

 

**(34)**

 

He watched the Stormtroopers drag Poe into the shuttle, knowing he would be seeing the pilot again really soon, and that the encounter wouldn’t be pleasant for either of them.

Then again, there was nothing pleasant about being shot at, even if you are capable of stopping a blaster bolt, so Ben supposed that spaceship had long departed already.

There was nothing left to do here: San Tekka was dead at his feet, and the village would soon follow suit.

He was making his way back to the boarding deck when he heard it. Without even trying, he heard, because the person was projecting his thoughts harder than anything Ben has ever heard before.

Panic will do that.

_I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I won’t. I can’t do this I can’t do this somebody get me out!_

Ben stilled.

He didn’t even have to look very hard to find the source. A Stormtrooper, not shooting. A blip in the program. A big one.

And the thoughts are so… so individualistic. So many “I’ and “cant’s” and “wont’s”. So many things no Stormtrooper should consider.

So many things that may lead to defecting. If no one reported him.

Ben kept walking.

 

 

**(40)**

 

“Ben!”

He stopped walking.

He had felt it, when his father entered the base. He had known, and still somehow he thought he wouldn’t see him.

Wasn’t that the way of the world? To feel his parents, but never see them again?

“... Han Solo…” He had to say the name, taste it on his tongue. See his father flinch at the full name. Have time to think. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

That was half-true. He had been waiting, it’s true.

It’s only that as time went by, he started waiting less and less.

“I know.” His father’s voice was grave and steady, but he looked so fragile standing before him. Even as he made his way across the bridge, the fearless Han Solo of childhood stories, all Ben could think about was how old he looked. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry it took us so long. But we’re here. You can come home.”

Ben scoffed. It came out as a choke.

“I was going to _kill_ Luke,” he said, as if that explained everything. And didn’t it?

You couldn’t spend years hunting down your uncle, and then be welcomed with open arms. You just couldn’t.

“But you didn’t,” his father replied, because he didn’t understand. “You haven’t yet. There is still time.”

There wasn’t. The Hosnian system had already blown up.

“It’s too late.”

“No, no it isn’t. That’s only what Snoke wants you to believe. You can still come home.”

_I don’t think I can._

He didn’t say those words, because that wasn’t what you’re supposed to do. When your father comes to free you after twenty years, you’re supposed to embrace him, be filled with joy. It’s what he told himself he would do, when the time came. After his daring escape, his true victory.

But Hux was right. He hasn’t thought about going back to the Resistance in so long. Confronted with the option for the first time in fifteen years, he knew, truly and deeply, that he didn’t belong there.

Too dark. Too twisted. Too many deaths and too many choices not made.

They wanted Ben Solo back, but he hasn’t really been Ben Solo in quite a while, and he didn’t want to be him again. He couldn’t.

He didn’t want to be Lord Ren either.

“I’m being torn apart,” he croaked out. It was hard to speak, to meet his father’s eyes. “I want to be free of this pain.”

The pain of being irredeemably tainted. Of being the sole retched being in the face of the righteous.

“Let me help you,” his father whispered, taking a step forward.

Ben shook his head. “You can’t. No one can.”

Still his father kept coming closer, hand outstretched like he wanted to touch him, and Ben really wished he wouldn’t. “Yes, we can,” Han Solo insisted.

His father was so close now. Ben could see every wrinkle lining his face, every trace left by sorrow or laughter - and which ones were which he didn’t know. They were all so foreign to him. This was a face he had never seen before, the face of an old stranger who once knew Ben Solo.

This was his father, who sent him away and came to get him twenty years later.

He felt a hand on his cheek. Rough, and calloused, and gentle, and _his father’s._

That’s all it took to send him collapsing into Han Solo’s arms.

“I can’t,” he half-whispered, half-sobbed. “I want to, but I can’t, I…”

A hand came to rest behind his head. For a moment, Ben could pretend he was ten again. “You can, Ben. You have been so brave, but you can leave now. Leave the First Order behind. Come home.”

Leave the First Order behind. Ben almost laughed.

How could he, when it had its claws so deep in him, a rot he couldn’t cut…

Cut out of him.

His lightsaber was a steady weight in its hilt. Grounding. Promising. Full of memories of all the people he cut down.

Ah, but it was easy to much easier to kill a man than to kill an Order.

A strange sort of peace washed over him.

“I know what I have to do.”

 

 

**(41)**

 

Snoke may have had his malevolence, but Ben had his hate. Honed for twenty years, focused and sharpened, all directed towards the man who fed it so well.

When Ben tore his shackles apart, Snoke’s powers were nothing but frail fingers he broke with relish.

 

 

**(42)**

 

It was easy to find Hux. Almost like fate.

It was even easier to spring up on him when the General was so uncharacteristically frazzle, trying to evacuate a collapsing base and mull his revenge plan at the same time.

Even so distracted though, Hux was sharp. When he saw Ben before him, lightsaber ignited and wrist unshackled, he reacted. Drew the too small blaster from his belt, fired one shot in the next instant.

But the small blaster was unwieldy, and gave Ben time to react. Besides, Brendol was wrong anyway.

Ben _could_ stop a bolt at this distance.

The halted blast barely made it an inch before it froze, closer to Hux than it was to Ben. But the General had still advanced, had still moved in for a finishing blow, and by the time he realized his mistake it was too late.

A halted ray is still a ray. It dug into Hux’s sides in a slanted, ugly angle that left a slanted, ugly wound.

The General fell to the ground. Ben made sure to keep him there.

Brendol trashed against the invisible bonds, eyes wide in shock. He looked like a cornered animal, until his usual self-control reasserted itself. Then he stilled, and looked up at Ben with the most venomous glare Ben has ever seen. He bared his teeth.

“Is this it then?” he hissed. “Finally getting your own back for good?”

Ben brought the lightsaber above Hux, the crackling blade leaving red sparks inches above Hux’s chest. “If I told you this was the only way for me to redeem myself, what would you say?”

Brendol panted, tried to pull himself up. It took barely a nudge of the Force to push him back down.

He was going to faint soon. Exhaustion. Injury.

He managed one last cynical laughter. “I would call you delusional.”

The words were condescending, cold, mocking.

It was comfortingly familiar.

“Thank you,” Ben whispered.

He watched as Hux went limp.

 

 

**(2)**

 

“You called for me, sir?” young Brendol asked.

His father looked up from his desk, neither smiling nor frowning as he took in his son. He was most likely looking for some flaw in young Hux’s appearance, but the ten-year-old knew he wouldn’t find any.

So he stood there, spine straight and face as impassive as he could manage, until his father nodded once. “Come here, child.”

Without a word, Brendol shuffled forward, coming to stand in front of the transparisteel desk. His father put down the holopad he was working on, crossed his fingers together as he looked at Hux steadily.

“We have acquired an asset today.”

And still Brendol said nothing, though he had to reign in his enthusiasm. His father never shared any information about the First Order. Brendol hadn’t deserved it yet. That he would now meant this was something special.

Something Ben had to prove himself worthy of.

“The Supreme Leader requested it personally. The son of the Resistance’s leader, and a Force user at that. He is to stay here for the near future.” Hux senior pursed his lips. “I would like you to approach him.”

Brendol frowned. “Sir?”

This wasn’t what he has expected. This wasn’t even something he thought his father would consider.

Brendol Hux the first couldn’t very well be asking his son to _befriend_ someone of the Resistance. Could he?

“He is not to be treated as a prisoner, therefore, he will not be isolated as such,” his father elaborates. “Since the two of you of are the same age, I might as well prefer you be the source of his company.”

“As you wish, sir,” Brendol answered. He couldn’t very well say anything else.

Hux senior nodded. “There is one more thing.”

Brendol waited.

“I do not expect you to be friends. I do not expect you to care for him. He is of the Resistance, and until he demonstrates otherwise he will be nothing more than a prisoner. And a possible threat.”

With that, he reached for something in one of his drawers.

It was a blaster, a brand new one with still gleaming edges and intact grip. It was smaller than others Brendol had seen, and as he picked it up, he realized it was because it had been made to be handled by someone his size. His age.

He looked back up towards his father.

It was so very hard to keep his expression neutral and professional when his hands were shaking with excitement.

“If he tries to escape, or act out,” Hux senior said with finality. “I expect you to use it.”

Hux looked at the blaster in his hand, filled with a sense of pride and eagerness. It was just a standard issue weapon, functional and nothing more, but it was his first.

His first weapon. His first assignment.

His first target, maybe, and if it came to that then he would be able to show his father just how accurate his shooting skills were.

“Do you understand, Brendol?”

“Yes, sir.”

It couldn’t have been simpler.

He had to kill Ben Solo, before Ben Solo killed him.

 

 

**(43)**

 

The base was crumbling and the alarms were blaring, rumbles and sirens all screaming at him that Hux will die if he leaves him here.

General Starkiller. The vicious beast in an officer’s clothing, whose cruelty and bloodlust were wrapped in mild manners and impeccable uniform.

_I’ll make you pay for everything._

_He killed them. The Hosnian System. He killed them!_

He killed them all. He will kill more.

But if he was left here, then _Brendol would die._

Ben knew what he had to do.

Instead, he picked up Hux’s body and began to run.

 

 

**(45)**

When Ben brought Brendol back to the Falcon, his father yelled. Chewie growled. The Stormtrooper objected loudly, and the Scavenger girl glared – he didn’t know her name, he hadn’t bothered interrogating her after Starkiller was fired.

The Falcon took off, and still they protested, pleaded, and shouted.

Ben didn’t care.

Throughout the yelling, the arguing, the sound of engines igniting and the collapse of an entire planet, all he could look at was Hux, who laid on the bench with his head cradled in Ben’s lap. The wounds on his body were more impressive than dangerous. He would live.

Tentatively, Ben reached out to touch that pale face, his fingers stroking pale skin to come rest against a delicate temple. Just as gently, he let his mind brush against Hux’s own.

He was unsurprised to find that Brendol was dreaming of him.

What he would never be sure of was if it was a good dream or a bad one.

 

 

**(46)**

It was a testament to how dire the situation was when it took three full seconds for Hux’s training to kick in after the General woke up.

During those three seconds, he was assaulted by memories of Starkiller’s fall. Flashes of collapsing walls and red lights. The bite of wind and snow and ice cold rage as his life’s work collapses around him. A magnificent, brutal machine brought down by one defective cog - FN-kriffing-2187! Some of his officers fleeing to escape pods, motivated by common sense rather than duty. Ben Solo suddenly appearing before him and -

Pfassk.

His eyes snapped open, immediately taking in his surroundings with brutal efficiency. It was day time. Midafternoon maybe, though that guess was based on his internal clock and was therefore not reliable at all. He was lying on a simple metal cot with a rough blanket over it. The walls were made of slightly rusted metal. With Ben Solo sitting in the corner, there is only one conclusion to draw from all this.

Hux let his head fall back with a groan. “Is this a cell, then?”

“Surprisingly enough, the Resistance doesn’t have guest rooms at hand for enemy Generals,” Ben replied as Hux sits up. He looked different out of his First Order clothing, simple pants and a light shirt taking away much of the ominous aura surrounding him. The fact that he looked absolutely exhausted didn’t help any.

“I shudder to think what those would look like,” Hux commented, eyes darting around the room. “This place is decrepit.”

“Yes. It is.”

There was such a profound weariness and surrender in Ben’s tone that it made Hux pause. Ben Solo should never speak so quietly. Even in his defeats and his shame, he had always been loud and exuberant in his emotions. Hux would call it uncontrolled, and perhaps it was, but it also delighted him.

It felt wrong to hear him sound any other way. Uncomfortable.

“Their droids are all at least fifty years old,” Ben continued, either oblivious to Hux’s though or ignoring them. “Their design is lacking.”

“How ancient,” Hux replied, a small smile curving his lips. Of all the things to focus on, how very like him.

“The halls are always cluttered.”

“How messy.”

“They share freshers.”

“How barbaric.” Hux quirked an eyebrow. “You do realize that Stormtroopers and lower officers shared freshers as well, don’t you? That you didn’t is a sign of privilege.”

Ben turned his head to the side, and said nothing. Again, rather than the usual petulance and sullenness, there was only melancholy as he stares at the wall.

So when Hux spoke once more, it was both out of malice and out of need to distract him from his thoughts.

Though, admittedly, still mostly malice. “Aren’t you happy Ben? You are _home._ ”

Ben barked out a sharp, self-deprecating laughter.

Hux tuted. “Come now, nothing? And here I was hoping to have some conversation before my execution.”

“You aren’t going to be executed.”

Hux blinked, then scoffed. “Don’t be absurd. I am the General of the First Order, the one who ordered the destruction of the Hosnian system. Of course they will execute me.”

Ben shook his head. “I made a deal. You will live.”

“A deal,” Hux repeated, voice flat.

He didn’t know what a deal made by Ben kriffing Solo would look like, but he was almost certain it would be absolutely disastrous. And more importantly, nothing Hux would have ever agreed to.

He dedicated his life to the First Order. He was more than ready to die for it.

“General Org - My mother was willing to make some concessions upon my return,” Ben continued, wincing slightly at his slip up.

“Well, thank the Maker for Mother Dearest.” Hux had actually esteemed Leia Organa once, but if she was willing to make any sort of compromise, he may just have to revise his judgement. “So riddled with guilt she will accept almost anything.”

“Yes.”

For the first time since the beginning of the conversation, there was something other than despondence in Ben’s voice. Bitterness, and self-satisfaction, his lips pulling into a smile that was both cynical and smug. Hux would have laughed at it, at Ben and with Ben, if his anger at his situation didn’t eclipse anything else.

“And what did she say? What did you say to convince her? Did you tell them I would _collaborate_?” He spat out that word as if it were foul poison.

“Hux -”

“That all I needed was to be coddled in order to open up?”

“I -”

“That I would do anything to save my own skin? Did you -”

“I told them I needed you!”

Hux’s mouth snapped shut.

Ben looked at him, fuming. “I told them I _needed_ you. It was pathetic, and laughable, and it wasn’t even a kriffing lie.” He turned his head to the side, ran his hand through his hair as he let out an incredulous laughter. “I don’t… I can’t be here without you. I can’t… You made the First Order bearable, somehow, and even in the Resistance I... _Kriff._ ”

Hux said nothing. He couldn’t speak.

Part of him crooned in victory, in elation. It was not unlike the feeling he had when Starkiller was first completed, only this time, there was no credit to be shared. It feels so sweet.

There was another part that he smothers viciously, because he will not surrender in the same moment he finally wins, he will _not…_

And Ben went on, self-absorbed as always, something Hux was so grateful for in this moment. “I don’t want you to die. I told Organa that, and she agreed. Baring conditions, of course.”

“Of course,” Hux replied, forcing a cynical smile on his face. Mockery had always been his mask. “Go ahead then. Read me my sentence.”

“You will be under guard at all time, until you have proven you don’t require them anymore. Some areas will be restricted to you, but in the rest you will be free to move around.” A pause. “You don’t have to collaborate, but it would go a long way to help your case.”

Hux didn’t even dignify that with a response. “And if I escape?”

Ben looked down, in shame Hux thought at first. But then he understood, and looked down at his ankle to see what Ben is staring at. And paled.

He knew this model of bracelet. Less elaborate than the ones at the First Order, but sturdy. Designed to give out electric shocks should the _prisoner_ step outside of a defined perimeter.

He looked at Ben’s own pristine wrists, and could feel the entire Galaxy tilt on its axis.

He thought of a little, pathetic boy sniveling on a bed, while he looked on knowing that he was above him. That he would always be above him, no matter what mystical power the boy might have.

The boy who had vowed retribution.

“Oh...” he started, before being cut off by his own hysterical laughter. He couldn’t help it though; the situation was simply too exquisite. “Oh _Ben!_ When did you become so vicious?” he asked in true wonderment. “You turned me into _you_!”

If this was revenger, then it was the most beautiful of kinds. Hux had underestimated Ben most terribly in that case, had underestimated the intelligence behind his sense of dramatics. Or perhaps he truly believed he is doing Hux a favor by sparing his life.

Or most likely, it was both.

Oh, what an amazing boy!

Ben didn’t share his amusement. “You’ll learn to live with it.”

Would he, Hux thought in hysterical humor. Would he though? To live as a captive, a glorified hostage. To have every piece of authority he ever had taken away from him, every decision to his own fate denied to him. No choice, no weapon. No control.

To be so vulnerable, so dependent _._

So _helpless._

Oh, he would sooner ripe the Galaxy apart than let this situation last. He would sooner burn this place down with him in it than accept it.

He was no cowering ten-year-old. Did they really think it will be so easy?

“Oh, I think not,” Hux answered as he catches his breath, shaking his head as a few stray chuckles escaped him.

Ben frowned for a moment, before his eyes widened in surprise and anger. “You won’t be trusted with any sort of sharp object in the near future, so -”

“Oh, really Ben? I didn’t mean it _that_ way.” Of course Ben would assume he meant suicide, because what else would a moody teenager think of? It was almost hurtful though, he would have thought Ben knew him better than that. «You are always so kriffing dramatic.”

He scooted back on the bed, leaning against the wall. He might as well put himself at ease, this conversation will be a long one. “I will not learn to live with it,” he explained reasonably, “because while I do intend to live, I have no plans of doing so as a prisoner.”

Ben remained standing, shoulders stiff and eying him suspiciously. “Any escape attempt and your bracelet will activate.”

“Hmm… And what kind of… _Force_ could remove them from me?”

“I am not releasing you,” he replied quickly.

Too quickly, Hux would have said. It was flattering, that Ben already thought of it.

“So you’re willing to have me waste away in captivity?” he pressed. “You would let them do that to me?”

Ben’s eyes flash in anger. “Why not?” he growled, stalking forward until he is standing just on the edge of the bed. “You did the same. It would only be fair, _Brendol_ ,” he adds with a hiss.

Hux had to revise his previous assessment: Ben Solo was just as intimidating in mundane clothes as he was in his armor. Still so tall, so visibly muscular, his hair like a dark halo as he looms over Hux. With the two of them so close, Hux could almost feel the Force flexing around him, responding to all those emotions Ben never succeeded at controlling.

It struck him, then, just how close he came to dying. Just how close to death he still was. He owed his life to Ben, to the hostage, ever-below Hux and now his sole salvation. It was humiliating.

He could feel his heartbeat in his temples, loud, fast.

“But I wouldn’t be any good here,” he said in a breathless voice, when he remembers to speak again. “I will never collaborate, Ben. The Republic is too weak, the Resistance too chaotic. I will never give them an ounce of my potential, and what a waste that would be.”

Ben growled again, louder this time. “Are you expecting pity?” he hissed. His strong hands grabbed Hux by the shoulders, shoving him to the side so that he landed flat on his back. Before he could blink, Ben was on top of him, looming over him with fury in his eyes. One of his hand was planted firmly next to Hux’s head, the other dug into the redhead’s shoulder, squeezing with every word.

“Give it a few months. A few years,” he spat out. “I’ll drag you around the base, day after day. I will make you talk to them; I will make you _look._ I will make you _see them_ , and what they stand for.” The words were both a threat and a promise, carrying a viciousness that his face was slowly loosing. Instead, his eyes began to shine with something other than anger, his shoulders to shake with something other than fury. “We’ll see how certain you are then.”

Hux reached out to caress Ben’s face, but his show of tenderness was most brutally rejected. Ben’s hand shot out to grab his wrist, and viciously pinned it down. His grip was tight enough to cut off the circulation. Hux hissed, both in pain and indignation.

“Am I supposed to apologize then?” He bared his teeth, all notion of tenderness forgotten. “I am supposed to feel sorry for you? No one forced you to do anything, Ben.” Hux strained upwards, bringing his face that much closer to Ben’s. “You chose. Every single time.”

“I. Was. A. Child.” Ben punctuated every word, hammering them in with such insistence that Hux knew he is trying to convince himself as much as Hux. Probably his mother told him the same, and his father, and everyone else here. All trying to convince themselves that little Ben Solo was a helpless victim, and not some destructive mess of a man.

Hux could show everyone his wrist, and the finger shaped bruises that will surely have blossomed upon it, and they would still turn a blind eye. Or perhaps they would shrug it off as well deserved retribution. Never mind that Hux never laid a hand on Ben in all their years together. Never used that kriffing blaster properly.

“And then you grew up. And still chose.” He let his head fall back, looking towards the side in bitter weariness. “I’m not going to discuss this with you. Go ahead, enjoy this complete absolution of yours.” He scoffed, then sneered as he looks back towards Ben. “So grand to be the son of Organa. Did they all welcome you with open arms? Is the long lost Prince finally back home? Is -”

“Jealousy is unbecoming, Hux,” Ben bit back. “We can’t all have cold, loveless lives, or worthless fathers.”

For a moment after those words, cold white rage blinded Hux. How dare he, _how dare he?!_ That pathetic little -

Years of training and self-discipline came crashing onto him. They did not cut of his anger, but they did offer him a new image at the forefront of his mind: Ben, face distorted in anger at Hux’s words. Many times, countless times. So easily provoked, so strong in his anger.

Was this what it was like experiencing it from the other side? To be so threatened all the time, and so emotional? How did Ben stand it for so long?

It was uncomfortable, the knowledge that Hux could be so easily reduced. That deep inside he would be so insecure as to react so strongly.

It was uncomfortable, but it also was the push that allows him to calm down. Steady himself. He had a plan, a goal when he first woke up. He could not let Ben distract him from it. 

“As if I would ever be jealous of you,” he said, willfully keeping the venom out of his voice. “Of the Resistance. I want nothing to do with them.”

The sudden lack of aggression on Hux’s part seemed to calm Ben down, enough that he finally let go of Hux’s wrist. He sagged down slightly, shifting his weight so that he was lying on his side. Considering the size of him, it still took up a lot of space.

Hux grunted. “This cot is _not_ meant for two people.” He lifted himself up, pushing slightly at Ben’s shoulder. “Move,” he orders, guiding Kylo flat on his back and then propping himself on his chest. “You can wrap your arms around me, if you’re worried I’ll try to run.”

Ben sighed, but did put his hand on Hux’s back. His other one came to rest on the back of Hux’s neck. “Why would you even try to escape?” he asked quietly, his fingers gently combing through short red hair. “The First Order won’t accept you back. You know that. They’ll assume you’ve talked, and strike you down.”

Hux hummed. “I have a few allies there still. Phasma. Mitaka - remember him? - and a few other minor officers. The Stormtroopers they command. Quite a number, all in all.” He shrugs. “I’ll make my own way if I must.”

“All you’re doing is giving me more reasons not to release you.”

“Here’s a reason then: come with me.”

Hux shifted in Ben’s hold. It was harder work than it sounds, since Ben’s arms had tightened around him considerably. When he did manage to put himself on his stomach, still balanced on the Force user’s chest, he raised his head to better look at him.

Ben’s face was paler than usual; completely ashen, in fact. It had grown oddly slack, as if drained of all force. Except for the eyes; those had become almost too full of emotion, shock and conflict and fear accumulating into a static of torment.

“You don’t belong here,” Hux continued, soft and gentle. It was important to speak softly now, to not frighten him away. “You never have.”

“You’re wrong.” Ben’s voice doesn’t shake, but his tone lacks conviction. The words sounded hollow, like a line practiced over and over again until it loses any meaning.

“No. I’m not.” He reached out to stroke Ben’s cheek. This time, Ben let him, though he did flinch at the contact. “You should have seen the look on your face when I first woke up. Exhausted, disillusioned. You’re not happy here.”

Ben let out something like a chuckle, or at least a valiant effort at one. “As opposed to how ecstatic I was in the First Order?”

“We wouldn’t return to the First Order. You’re right, they would kill us on sight.” Hux’s voice turned into a fervent whisper when he speaks next. “We’d make our own power, our own home. We’d be equals, for the first time. Don’t you wonder how that would feel like?”

Hux did. It shocked him, how much he did.

No, this was more than wonder. This was _want._

Ben had a way of making him want more than Hux should. It hadn’t always been so, but years changed the two of them, and Ben slowly made Hux greedy. He made him crave the curses and the bruises, but also something much greater, much more complex. Something the First Order General should never want from a Resistance hostage. Something Ben should never have allowed himself to give.

But the two of them, on top of the world… Such an elegant solution, was it not?

Ben clenched his jaw, so hard Hux could see the muscles jut out and tremble. So hard that he thought it might break, until Ben released all that tension in one cry, tossing his head back to shout broken rage. When he looked at Hux again, his eyes were filled with true tears. His face was scrunched into an ugly expression, his odd features not bearing sadness well at all.

“I should be happy here,” he forced out. His voice was rough and raw, his tone accusing. His entire frame was trembling beneath Hux. “I did have a place here.” His eyes flashed. “ _You_ took it from me! You took everything and -”

“I was ten at the time,” Hux interrupted. Not the wisest choice, but he couldn’t help it. “It is hardly fair to blame me.”

“Well, there is no one else here, so you’ll do!” Ben cried out, petulant and broken. He threw Hux off him, or tries to. Hux wouldn’t let him, of course, so the best Ben managed was to clumsily shuffle back, until his back hit the back of the bed, Hux still draped over him.

It occurred to Hux that Ben could use the Force if he really wanted him away; he didn’t know why he didn’t.

“My mother would feel it if I used the Force to violently. People would come within seconds then,” Ben murmured harshly. “Otherwise I probably would have already choked you.”

“Like old times” Hux quipped.

Ben almost smiles, caught himself, and wallowed into anguish once more. He made a pathetic sound in the back of his throat, something between a whimper and a weak growl.

Hux almost said something in response, a coo or a croon, but before he could Ben’s hand came to fist in his hair, roughly pulling his head until they were only inches apart. Ben’s breath was hot against his skin, and his too intense eyes never left Hux’s. “I hope your time here destroys you,” he said, voice hoarse and full of promise. “I hope you become so filled with guilt you cannot breathe, that the entire foundation of your being will be shattered. I hope they tear you apart to your very core, and then…”

His face crumbled again, and this time he looks lost. A lost little boy, who couldn’t help but hope even though he knows it’s futile. Closing his eyes to keep the tears at bay, he leaned forward, closing the distance between them but touching Hux’s forehead with his. “We could fight together,” he pleaded. “Live together here… I don’t want to want it, but I do, and....We could…”

He choked out a sob, and though Hux is not given to fits of compassion, he still smiled softly, sadly.

Unlike Ben, Hux had always known exactly who he is, and what he wanted. What he was willing to do to get it.

It is the only true advantage he has ever had over Ben. It has always been more than enough.

“It’s a pleasant dream, Ben,” he said gently, surprised to find that he half-meant it. He reached around to stroke the back of Ben’s hair. “Though I much prefer we build an Empire together.”

“Don’t.”

“Why not?” Hux insisted. “We’ll kill Snoke together. We will bring order to the Galaxy. In the time it takes the Republic to decide whether or not they should attack, we’ll already have fulfilled our vision.” He smiled. “Didn’t I tell you, Ben?” he whispered. “I want to keep you.”

Ben closed his eyes, and released a shaky breath. He didn’t answer though, didn’t say no.

Ben had always been a horrible liar.

“You won’t kill me. I’ll escape one day, and you will be with me.” Hux lowered himself onto him, resting his head just under his chin. “I could do it without you. I don’t want to.”

“I won’t let you,” Ben said finally. “I don’t care what you want. I won’t let you leave; I won’t let you fight. I won’t let them kill you.” His eyes hardened in resolve. “It’s my turn. I get what I want.”

And the funny thing is, Hux believed him. Ben would deny Hux, deny himself, out of some misplaced sense of duty.

In a way, it made Hux furious that he would align himself with these people he hasn’t seen in years. Didn’t even know, not like he knew Hux, not like Hux knew him.

It wasn’t _fair,_ the childish part of him cries out.

The rest of him rolled its eyes and shook its head, both exasperate and reluctantly fond.

This was all so very typical of Ben, and in truth, Hux wouldn’t have him any other way.

“A stalemate then. Someone’s going to have to surrender.” He lifted his head, smirking as he looks up at Ben. “It will have to be you.”

“It won’t be,” Ben argued, pulling him up close. “If anything, I’ll finally let them kill you.”

“You won’t,” Hux replied, lips hovering over Ben’s. “If anything, I’ll put you down, _Resistance scum._ ”

He spoke the insult like an endearment before kissing him. Ben’s lips were as soft as ever, moving slowly and languorously against his. Hux closed his eyes and hums.

Then pulled back with a howl when sharp teeth bite harshly against his bottom lip.

“Beast,” he spat out, glaring at Ben. “What was that for?”

“I hate you.” Ben’s voice was breathless. “I want you so much that I hate you.”

Hux smiled dangerously. “Allow me to return the sentiment.”

He leans down quickly, clamping his teeth against the junction between Ben’s neck and shoulder. Almost immediately he was pulled back by his hair, flipped around until he was slammed on his back, Ben on top of him.

“You’re an idiot,” he hissed, hand clamping over Hux’s throat. Not enough to cut off the air supply completely “They’ll punish you if they see me injured.”

“So don’t let them see it,” Hux answered, breathless and smiling.

He didn’t know if Ben would do as he said. He didn’t know what Ben would do.

He found that he didn’t mind as much.

Ben growled, half-playfully and half-earnestly before diving in for another kiss.

Hux closed his eyes, just this once, and allowed himself to let go.

 

 

**(End bis)**

 

Alone on the roof, under the night sky, Ben closed his eyes and imagined there was a redhead sitting by his side.

It was most likely foolish to cling to such hopes, to cling to Hux. But Ben was filled with memories of Dejarik game, of his arms around Hux as Hux wept, of Hux’s hand around him as Ben broke. Of a Hux capable of putting hate and cruelty aside.

And Ben, who despite everything was still a child in many ways, could not think of such things without yearning. He hated that, and he hated Hux because he really didn’t hate him at all. Or he did, but the wrong way.

He wanted Hux to pay, to suffer, but in the end, he wanted him to live, to be free. He knew Hux deserved none of those things. He didn’t care.

He had lied to Hux before: he was never going to want him to die.

He wanted to keep him too.

He let his head fall in his hands. Even when he wasn’t here, Hux could still tear his mind apart. The thought made Ben chuckle sadly.

Life without Hux had long ago become unimaginable; perhaps life with Hux could one day be bearable.

Underneath him, in the basement, Hux was lying on his bed. Ben could feel him, the familiarity of his mind overcoming the distance. He could feel his cool confidence, his quiet certitude that this was not the end for him. He could feel him think of Ben

Ben wanted Hux to think of him all the time. He wanted him to be as ruined as he was.

He wanted to be with him, but this was a good enough substitute. The stars granted him a serenity that Brendol never had, or would.

Of course, this serenity was artificial. Soon enough, they would go back to cursing and screaming, to gentle kisses and the promise of tearing each other down, for their own happiness.

But not tonight.

Tonight, Ben closed his eyes, and imagined they were both prisoners in one shared cell.

 


End file.
